Fame Cimex
by Mattwho81
Summary: Overwhelmed and outmatched the Storm Heralds Space Marines fight to stop the advance of the Tyranid menace, but will their allies join them for one last stand? This story is a sequel to my previous story Ancra Mortis
1. Chapter 1

**Fame Cimex: Chapter 1**

 **995.M41**

Under the light of two tiny moons a city burned, leaping flames illuminating a scene of hell as screams filled the air and blood flowed freely. Everywhere terrified men and women ran in shock, desperately looking for lost loved ones and clutching crying babies to their chests as they fled the horror. They were not alone either, men in fatigues and flak armour ran alongside them, the supposed defenders of this world deserting their posts to run for their lives. Their goal was the heart of the city, where the faint hope of evacuation lay, but the chances of any of them reaching it were slim indeed.

Behind the terrified crowds came creatures straight from nightmare, hideous skittering monsters clad in chitin and bounding on coiled, spring-like legs. They fell upon the fleeing crowds in a frenzy of bloodletting, tearing, gouging and consuming all before them. Nothing could stand before them and all mere men could do was flee for the beast's fangs were sharp and their claws long. Yet the worst thing about them was the hideous intellect in their eyes and a hunger that had stripped planets bare: the Tyranids had come to the world of Veltri and its doom was certain.

Along a wreckage-strewn street a tight knot of civilians and PDF soldiers fled towards a junction, hoping to take cover among the debris piled up there, but sadly they moved too slowly. A horde of skittering Hormagaunts was dashing after them, leaping high in the low gravity, descending with claws outstretched and fanged mouths open ready to feast. Just before the first Gaunt could lay a claw upon a civilian a burning flash shot by, leaving a blazing trail as it punched the beast out of the very air. It was followed by another and another, a flurry of firepower that scythed into the horde, blowing Tyranid creatures apart. Foul ichor splashed all over the civilians but left them alive.

The disbelieving crowd looked about for their salvation but could barely credit what they saw, standing behind the piles of debris at the junction were towering giants straight from legend. There was not a man or woman in the Imperium who could fail to recognise them, for their images were carved into every Cathedral, scholam and palace across the galaxy. They were the ultimate warriors of mankind, the last chance for a doomed race at the hour of its extinction and the final glimmer of hope in an eclipse of evil.

They were the Space Marines and they had come to Veltri.

Standing amid the debris and barricades was an Astartes Captain, he bore a golden rank chain, a long red cloak strewn with purity seals and his face bore a single augmetic eye that burned fiercely. His name was Captain Toran and he was waving at the civilians shouting, "This way, make haste!"

Spurred into action the crowd ran towards their saviours and Toran watched them approach, noting their filthy rags and desperate faces. Among their number was a frantic woman clutching a crying child to her shoulder, the babe was barely old enough to walk and the woman's eyes had madness to them that spoke of horrors she had no way to process. As the crowd ran past Toran heard the woman chanting, "The Emperor's Angels, the Emperor sends his Angels to save us, the Angels have come."

Toran was discomforted by the words and he snarled at the crowd, "Keep moving and stop for nothing, head to the spaceport, there are still evacuation ships waiting there." The crowds ran on and Toran let them go as they whispered their thanks and praises.

He stepped back to review his forces, seeing his Demi-Company hunkered down behind the piles of debris, using them as barricades. He had two tactical squads, under Sergeants Mylos and Priyar at the front and a Devastator squad under Sergeant Zeax in elevated positions to lay down covering fire with their missile launchers. Behind them waited an impatient assault squad under Sergeant Lorath, their jump packs held idle until they would be needed for a counterattack. Toran also had his own Command squad in the centre and he strode over to them, seeing the Company Banner being flown high by Brother Bylan. Toran did a quick head count and saw brothers Furion, Jediah, Persion and Novak all ready and eager for the fray along with Apothecary Memnos, whose skills had yet to be called upon.

There was one more member of the party, Chaplain Wrethan, who alone looked happy to be here. Wrethan had been grievously injured two years earlier and this was the first time he had seen true action since, indeed it was the first time he had been deemed fit to wear proper armour and take up his Crozius once more. Toran strode over to the group, bouncing slightly in Veltri's low gravity and called out, "Situation report."

Brother Persion was the communication specialist and his armour boasted expanded Vox arrays, allowing him to link back to the Chapter's orbiting fleet. He spoke up to say, "Heavy fighting in orbit, this may only be a splinter fleet descending upon Veltri but it still outnumbers our fleet a thousand to one. The situation on the ground is worse, the fourth defensive line is broken and the fifth hard pressed, the PDF are fleeing in droves."

Chaplain Wrethan snarled, "Damn them, those cowards should be shot!"  
Furion argued though, "The Tyranids have deployed Bio-Titans, we have nothing that can withstand such might, the defence of Veltri could never have been more than a delaying action."

Wrethan glared at him for the interruption and snarled, "If you are so sympathetic to their plight then maybe you should take charge of herding them through our lines."  
The rebuke was stinging, for Furion had long ago been rejected from training with the Chaplaincy for his opposing the Emperor's deification, but if he was offended he hid it well and saluted with the sign of the Aquila before striding off to oversee the civilian evacuation.

Toran watched Furion go silently, knowing he could not be seen to argue with the Chaplain in front of the Company. Instead he turned to Persion and said, "Contact Chapter Master Gorgall's and request new orders."  
Persion paused for a minute as he relayed the request then reported, "The fourth defensive line is gone, the Chapter is to fight a rear-guard action to allow as many civilians and as much war material as possible to be evacuated. In addition Second Company under Captain Laryen is under fire from Bio-Titans, they are falling back to the spaceport. We are ordered to hold this ground until they can reach us; if we falter then the entire fifth defensive line collapses."

Toran declared, "Then we shall not falter, we shall stand our ground to the last man and hold this position for the Emperor. Chaplain Wrethan if you would be so good as to address the Initiates, it is essential that their morale remains unwavering."  
Wrethan bowed in compliance and walked away, seeming sure and confident of victory, the squad watched him go and when he was out of earshot Persion said, "We are not going to win this one, are we?"

Toran wanted to rebuke him but found it hard to disagree, he sighed and said, "One does not win wars with rear guards and fallbacks, we are too heavily outmatched here, we should have brought greater strength."  
Persion said, "Chapter Master Gorgall brought the entirety of the Storm Heralds to Veltri, every single initiate and the whole fleet, even our repurposed corsair frigates and armed merchantmen. If that couldn't stop the Tyranids, what will?"

Toran heard the truth of those words but he could not allow defeatism to taint the ranks so he said, "We must try regardless, this tapped out mining world is the last obstacle between the Tyranids and the Saint Karyl Trail. If we falter here then the Imperium may well lose the only currently viable warp route to the galactic south, we cannot allow that to happen."

Persion looked like he wanted to say more but he nodded in understanding and Toran walked off, leaving the command squad as he went to inspect the Company. He found the squads ready and eager for the fray, each man keen to meet the Xeno and punish them for their crime of existence. Yet what was missing from their eyes was any confidence of victory, even if they had not known the situation then the knots of civilians and terrified soldiers still slipping past their position told them all they needed to know.

Toran toured the lines, speaking to various brothers and spouting vague platitudes to bolster morale; he passed Wrethan making some bombastic speech but did not pause to listen. The Captain swiftly came up to Brother Priyar and spoke to the Sergeant saying, "Are your Initiates all ready?"

Priyar spoke up loudly for his squad to hear as he proclaimed, "We are chomping at the bit sir, just let us at them and we will give these Bugs a bloodbath to remember us by!"  
Toran nodded knowing that statement was for the brother's benefit more than his and said, "Excellent Sergeant, but do try to leave some Xenos for the rest of us, I don't want the rest of the Company complaining that you stole all the glory again."

That drew chuckles from the squad and Toran was about to move on but then there was a sudden cry and he heard Persion shout, "Sir, orbital scans show they are coming!" Toran spun about and dashed back to his squad, just in time to see a wave of skittering Gaunts come into view in the distance. Their numbers were beyond counting, filled the street from side to side and reaching back as far as the eye could see.

Toran didn't even have to give any orders for the Company's heavy weapons were already firing, Heavy Bolters and Missile launchers carving deep furrows into the packed masses of foes. Toran skidded into position and snatched up his master-crafted bolter, levelling it at the enemy and waiting for them to come into range.

The horde skittered forward under fire, heedless of losses and racing with claws held high, eager to rand and tear and feast. Toran held his breath for a heart-stopping moment, then he cried, "All squads: Rapid Fire!" The defensive line erupted in a storm of bolt shells and the fusillade hit the Tyranids with devastating might, throwing insectile bodies everywhere, but the sheer number of enemies just kept coming. They were relentless and driven, focused and cunning, this was not instinctive behaviour: these beasts were being driven by the Hive Mind.

Toran gritted his teeth and panned his bucking bolter back and forth, spraying rounds into the foe with Transhuman accuracy. Scores of Gaunts were falling with every second and the piles of dead were mounting up, but the Tyranids just kept on coming. Toran saw the foe inching closer and closer through the firestorm and he heard Persion muttering, "Where's the damned Synapse creature, where the hell is it?"

Suddenly there was a cry from further down the line and Toran heard Chaplain Wrethan shouting, "Zoanthrope!" Toran looked where he was pointing and saw an elongated creature with a bloated skull, floating over the horde on a shimmering wave of psychic energy. Toran wasted not a moment to bellow, "Missile launchers, target that monstrosity!"

Immediately four Krak missiles shot out, zooming over the horde to fly right at the disgusting beast, but just before they hit the missiles encountered a wall of shimmering psychic energy. The warheads detonated prematurely to leave the Zoanthrope unharmed and Toran snarled, "Damnation, we will have to do this the hard way. Command squad, assault squad with me, we shall…"

The Captain was cut off as unexpectedly a mechanical voice cut through the vox, booming, "STAND FAST BROTHERS!" Toran's head snapped round in recognition and he was stunned to see a massive, bulky shape approaching from the rear.

With thunderous footsteps a huge mechanical war machine pounded forwards, shaking the ground with every tread as its power fist and assault cannon roared into life. As the Space Marines stood dumbfounded Honourable Ajax, the oldest Contemptor Dreadnought in the Storm Heralds Chapter, roared, "THAT BEAST IS MINE!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Fame Cimex: Chapter 2**

Ajax advanced relentlessly, the dim moonlight glinting off the smooth plates of his chassis while the air distorted around the crackling energy of his Atomantic energy field and the lightning surrounding his power fist. He could have been a figure cut straight from legend, his mechanical body the product of sciences whose true understanding had long since passed into myth and fable. He was an echo of ancient glories brought to life, a Goliath set loose upon the world and at his core lay the scraps of a warrior held one inch from death for five thousand years.

The Squads made way as Ajax charged past, still firing into the horde even as his footsteps shook the ground and made their teeth gnash. Ahead of him a veritable mountain of scythed Hormagaunts barrelled headlong in a chittering mass, closing with claws and fangs ready as the Zoanthrope floated overhead. It was a disgusting sight to behold; its limbs withered and stunted leaving only a long snake-like body and tail hanging from a bloated skull that was swollen with Psychic potential.

Ajax lowered his Kheres assault canon and cried, "THE EMPEROR ORDERS YOUR DESTRUCTION!" as he unleashed its power. A blazing contrail of rounds flared into existence, a thunderous roar drowning out even the Xeno's chittering as he panned his aim back and forth. The mass of Hormagaunts parted before the Contemptor, bodies being ripped asunder and blown apart in a wide swath before the Dreadnought, leaving a gaping chasm in the mountain of chitin. Wasting not a second Ajax charged into the gap he had blown, smashing into the smaller beasts with such impetus that the force of his impacts knocked them down to be crushed under his metal feet. Ajax lashed out left and right with his power fist, each blow sending broken bodies flying away from him and blasting Xenos into ash with flaring discharges of power. He was like a great nautical ship ploughing through an ice field, breaking and sundering all before him as he advanced, his great metal feet gouging away at the earth beneath him as his immense weight forced his bulk inexorably forwards.

The Tyranids reeled before the might of the Dreadnought, pulled back in a hissing, snarling mass, but they were not cowed for long. With the Hive Mind guiding them the Hormagaunts surged forwards, seeking to bury the Dreadnought under their weight and bounding Xenos leapt upon his body, trying to encumber his limbs with their mass. Bellowing in mechanical rage Ajax fought on, kicking and punching Tyranids aside and unleashing the flamer built into his fist to clear the way. The Dreadnought was still moving but his pace was slowing and more Tyranids kept piling on.

Seeing his distress the Zoanthrope drifted closer, its fanged maw making it look like it was grinning evilly. With a flare of incandescent power the Xeno vomited a lance of psychic energy, channelling the hunger of the Hive Mind into a spear of unnatural destruction. Ajax saw the blast coming but could not move to avoid it; instead he spurred his reactor to critical levels and stoked the Atomantic shield around his frame. The energy field caught the beam but was unable to entirely stop it, managing merely to divert the blast slightly so that it carved into his right arm instead of his sarcophagus. Servos blew out and blessed oils ran freely as the assault canon ground to a halt and fell limp, leaving the Dreadnought wounded and vulnerable.

From afar Toran saw Ajax's distress and knew he had to act, he drew his shining sword and cried, "Wrethan, hold this line. Assault squad and command squad with me, draw the foe away from Ajax, give him the opening he needs!" Instantly the command squad leapt forward and Bylan raised the Company Standard high to call, "+The Captain leads the way!+"

Toran led his brothers into the heart of the foe, slashing and hacking at the wall of chitin with all his fury, the Sword of Thiel parted Xeno hides effortlessly and he slew gaunts left and right. Purple ichor stained his armour and besmirched his proud colours, yet for every beast he slew there were ten more to take its place. The Tyranids were swift to respond, turning from the stricken Dreadnought to race at this new threat meeting the squad with a wave of scything claws. The squad met the avalanche of hacking, biting chitin by standing shoulder to shoulder, united in resolute determination to deny the Xeno's at any cost, yet they were inundated by the tide of hungry monsters and the numbers coming at them soared beyond counting. Toran was forced to take one step back and then another as he fought for his life, he knew his squad could not last more than a few seconds, but then the Assault squad intervened.

On blazing contrails of fire Sergeant Lorath and his squad fell from the skies, their impacts smashing craters into the dirt and throwing aliens away with stunning force. Chainswords and lightning claws sprang into life and with a cry of fury they leapt at the stunned beasts, slaughtering everything within reach. Toran cried aloud, "Follow me brothers" as he leapt to re-engage the foe and in a heartbeat the Astartes had reaped a fearful tally amongst the Tyranids.

Even as he fought Toran could see that Ajax had resumed his charge, smashing aside Hormagaunts as he ploughed his way to the Zoanthrope. The Synapse creature fell back before him, stunted limbs thrashing as Psychic power blazing around its bloated skull. Yet Ajax's charge was unstoppable, crushing all in his path as he propelled his massive bulk at the Xeno beast. With a thunderous blast Ajax smashed into the Synapse creature, power fist blazing as he swung it right at the beast's heart. The crackling fist met the psychic barrier in a magnesium flare of light that washed out all colour and the Zoanthrope quivered as its defence was tested to the very limit.

The Zoanthrope was quick to respond, gathering its power for another psychic blast but Ajax was faster, he barged forwards and crashed his armoured carapace into its body, the psychic barrier not preventing a non-lethal blow. The impact spun the Synapse creature to one side and its blast went wide, passing over the heads of the embattled space marines to crash into the defensive line far behind them.

The Zoanthrope was momentarily distracted and Ajax drew back his fist to end this fight, but before he could land a blow the Hive Mind struck. Moving as one a deluge of Hormagaunts swooped around and leapt upon the Contemptor's frame, covering him head to toe in chitin and thrashing flesh. Ajax roared in fury and stamped about, he lashed out with his fist but the Tyranids clung to every plate of his chassis and refused to be moved. With the Dreadnought momentarily pinned the Zoanthrope drifted closer and wrapped its long sinuous tail around Ajax, engulfing his left arm and trapping his power fist to his side. Scores of gaunts leapt at his back, chipping and gouging at the plate over his reactor core while the Zoanthrope gathered its power for a killing blast.

The situation was dire but Ajax was not yet finished.

With a grinding howl of damaged servos and angry sparks, Ajax lifted his right arm upwards, dragging a clinging gaunt along with it until his assault cannon was pointed directly upwards. The Contemptor jammed the sparking canon right into the Zoanthrope's belly and bellowed, "DEATH TO THE ALIEN!"

A single mental impulse was all it took to trigger the canon and in a microsecond it burst into life, spinning barrels blurring as they fired, unleashing a blizzard of rending bullets. A tongue of flame and metal erupted from the barrel, ripping into the Zoanthrope at point blank range. The beast screamed inhumanly as its guts were blown out, spraying vile ichor everywhere while it's bloated skull convulsed and swelled with power. The vast psychic might of the Hive Mind surged through the dying beast and blew outwards, knocking the Tyranids back on all sides, but the mighty Contemptor stood firm in the storm of energy and was unmoved.

Finally the Zoanthrope fell to the ground in a ragged; oozing heap and the effect on the remaining Xenos could not have been more pronounced. Instantly they lost all cohesion, each beast stumbling as if bewildered as their relay to the Hive Mind was lost and they reverted to instinctive behaviour. Those at the very edges of the horde seemed to forget why they were there and turned to scurry away, seeking to lurk in cover or find easier prey to feast upon. Toran was hacking away with the Sword of Thiel and saw the confusion sweep over the Tyranids like a great wave; he pushed harder and cried, "Forwards brothers, to Ajax!" The force redoubled their efforts and slaughtered a path to the Dreadnought, annihilating all in their way and leaving a trail of spilt ichor behind them. Caught between two foes the Hormagaunt's frenzy was finally broken and they turned to flee, racing away with their tails between their legs as they were chased by bolt rounds.

Toran looked about and saw his Marines were battered and beaten but they stood triumphant, they kept their weapons raised for they were ever alert but their pride was practically radiating off them. Novak, in particular, was loudest in his celebration, raising his sword and crying, "Victory for the Chapter!" while Bylan raised the Company Standard high and cried, "+Primarch's Own!+"

Toran frowned at that declaration, for such creeds smacked of cults of personality and were forbidden by the Codex Astartes in general and Chapter Master Gorgall in particular. The Captain would have to rebuke Bylan later, but for the sake of morale he held his tongue, this was not the time and the place to tarnish the Astartes' triumph. Yet from amid piles of slain corpses Ajax was slowly climbing back to his feet and he stomped about to face the victors as he growled, "DO NOT BE TOO EAGER TO CLAIM THE LAURELS CHILD, THIS WAS BUT A SILVER OF THE FOE'S MIGHT. WE SLEW HUNDREDS; BILLIONS MORE WAIT TO TAKE THEIR PLACE."

Toran knew the venerable brother was right and quickly reviewed his forces; the assault group had survived even though they were battered but when he looked over to the distant defensive line he found them to be a Marine short. The Captain hit his vox and called, "Casualties?" Sergeant Priyar answered him with a pained tone, "Brother Moran was taken by that psychic blast."

Toran bowed his head in respect for the Sergeant's loss and while Chaplain Wrethan spoke up to say, "He died fighting for the Emperor and for Mankind, there is no higher calling. Moran's name shall be entered in the scrolls of honour."

Toran felt the loss as keenly as any other, as the commander he was responsible for the lives of his men, but he could not let the Company dwell upon it when there was a war yet to win. He turned to Persion and said, "Contact Chapter Master Gorgall and request an update of our orders." There was a moment's pause then Persion replied, "The situation grows grave, the Fifth defensive line is collapsing, the PDF is falling back to the sixth and final line before the spaceport. There is more, Second Company are taking fire from Bio-Titans, they urgently need support. We are tasked to advance and distract the Tyranids so Captain Laryen can withdraw his squads."

A Demi-Company against Bio-Titans was a poor prospect but the Astartes refused to be cowed by long odds. Captain Toran sheathed his sword and lifted his bolter saying, "Then it seems there is yet more of the Emperor's work to be done this day. Form up and follow me, we have a Battle Company to rescue."


	3. Chapter 3

**Fame Cimex Chapter 3**

Through the burning streets the Demi-Company advanced, dashing from cover to cover in staggered waves. They were swift and determined but their progress was opposed at every turn by hordes of chittering monstrosities while broods of gargoyles flapped overhead, occasionally diving down to add their claws to the fighting. The Company refused to be stymied though and fought on; every step forwards a battle in itself, every inch bought with Xeno blood. In their midst Ajax stomped forwards, assault cannon hanging limp but putting his flamer to good use.

In the heart of the battle Toran was panning his Master crafted bolter left and right, unleashing short bursts to cut down knots of Hormagaunts and Termagaunts. One of the beasts fired a round at him, a fat beetle with oversized jaws that tried to chew through his ceramite plate. Toran grimaced and cut down the Xeno who had fired at him then swept the disgusting living ammunition from his armour.

Next to him Persion was firing upwards at a flock of Gargoyles and snarled, "Damn it, bad enough when they ran at us, now they can fly?"

Furion admonished him saying, "Whining is for children and Guardsmen. When beset by challenges a Space Marine stands prouder and fights harder."

The Company redoubled their efforts and within a minute had swept the street clear of foes, Toran waved them on and then they dashed to the next street. As they ran Toran said, "This is taking too long, we are moving too slowly. Second Company needs our aid now, Captain Laryen can't hold out for long."

Bylan spoke up to say, "+Sir, what can we expect from Captain Laryen?+"

Toran was watching for more Gargoyles but said, "I've only met him at command briefings, but he seemed to be a stickler for the rules. Does everything by the Codex, we can expect his squads to follow the same pattern."

Furion said, "If he's following standard protocol then he should be falling back before overwhelming firepower, we can't be far off. Good job too, we are burning through ammunition at a furious rate."

Persion interjected, "Is it just me or have all the Tyranids just vanished."

Toran realised he was right; the street ahead was clear and said, "They must have been drawn away to another battle."

Furion declared, "I can hear bolter fire!"

Toran heard it too and waved his squads forward, hurrying to the sound of battle and there they found the bulk of Second Company. A tight knot of Astartes was surrounded by hordes of gaunts, Warrior forms and Gargoyles while Predators and Hunter tanks blazed away in all directions. Toran saw the situation and called, "Spread out and take aim… Now as one Volley Fire!"

A thunderous retort erupted from the Company and hammered into the Xeno's flank, scything down aliens in droves. Caught in a crossfire the Tyranids were decimated, Gargoyles fell from the skies while Gaunts were blown apart and Warriors toppled with steaming holes blown in them. In seconds the tide of the battle turned and the Tyranids broke, fleeing as they lost their connection to the Hive Mind.

Toran breathed easier and waved to the liberated Company shouting, "Where's Captain Laryen?"

A sergeant called back, "Not here, he held back with three squads to form a rear-guard and ordered us to withdraw."

Toran called, "What's your name brother?"

The Sergeant replied, "Matheus sir, our orders are to fall back to the spaceport and stop for nothing, absolutely nothing."

Toran understood what Matheus was saying, they could not go back for their Captain but Toran had no such orders and called, "Carry on Sergeant; we will go fetch your Captain." Second Company hurried past in a ragged tide of blue armour while Toran's demi-company pressed on, determined to save their beleaguered kin. They swept through the city, alert for danger but had barely covered more than two streets when they first saw the Bio-Titans. These were disgusting parodies of the proud Imperial Titans, hunched back creatures of grotesque size and hideous aspect. They walked on four crab-like legs and carried vast bio-weapons that hung under their bellies, their faces were images from the worst of nightmares and their jaws were large enough to swallow a Rhino whole.

They were stamping through the ruins of derelict buildings and standing over a mile away the ground shook beneath the Space Marine's feet. The Bio-Titans were unstoppable juggernauts, mighty leviathans set loose to end worlds and their every gesture toppled buildings, yet they were not unopposed. From all around them came spurts of bolter fire, rising from the ruins to chip at their hides. There was no possibility of doing damage to them but the action was distracting and slowing the Bio-Titans progress: somewhere beneath their feet Captain Laryen was alive and still fighting.

Toran knew his Marines did not have enough firepower to bring down such monstrosities but they may yet draw one away long enough for Laryen to withdraw. Toran drew in a breath and said, "This is it Brothers, we have to act now, stand ready to…" He was interrupted though by Ajax who rumbled, "NO, IT IS ALREADY TOO LATE." Toran's eye snapped up and he saw what the Dreadnought had spotted, one of the Bio-Titans had wearied of this game and was pacing backwards, raising its main weapons as it did so.

Before anyone could act the bio-weapons fired, unleashing a torrent of seething Pyro-Acid that engulfed an entire city block. The scalding acid engulfed whole buildings, burning away ferrocrete and plasteel like a wax model left in an oven. Structures collapsed and fell in on themselves as buildings swayed drunkenly and toppled, everything not dissolved in acid being set ablaze and in seconds a square mile of the city was reduced to slag. There was a brief scream on the vox waves before it was abruptly cut off then silence fell as the bolter rounds ceased to rise.

Toran couldn't believe what he was witnessing and stood silently in denial, not able to articulate his horror. Meanwhile Bylan was protesting, "+We don't know they were all caught in that blast, there could yet be survivors. They could have taken refuge in cellars or sewers or.. or… or there may have been a storm drain they could have sheltered in+"

Ajax shattered that delusion saying, "YOU DREAM CHILD, THEY ARE ALL DEAD."

Toran wanted to protest, his soul cried out in denial at the sight before him but he could not say a word. Yet his training and hypno-indoctrination allowed him to section off that part of his mind and operate on a purely tactical level. Even as his hearts ached, his mind was flashing through the ancient teachings of his Primarch and he thought, Theoretical: His forces were outmatched and about to draw the attention of overwhelming enemy force, this position was not defensible. Practical: Fall back to a better one and link up with the rest of the Chapter.

Toran snapped around and saw his squads milling about in bewilderment, he broke through their confusion and ordered, "Form up Marines, we are falling back to the sixth defensive line. Disperse into combat squads and provide cover for your brothers in staggered waves. We are to regroup with the rest Chapter and prepare for a counter attack."

Any other force would have wasted precious seconds in argument, a moment of turmoil and disorder as the squads protested the idea of retreat, but these were Astartes. Barely had the words left Toran's mouth when the Space Marines were moving, the crisp clear orders cutting through the upheaval and spurring them to instant action. The squads grasped their weapons tightly and moved back into the city, withdrawing in scattered knots lest a Pyro-acid blast catch them all at once. As they withdrew the Bio-Titans noticed them and lumbered about to pursue, but the Astartes moved faster. As they marched Toran's heart seethed but he refused to dwell, closing off his mind to useless accusations that he had moved too slowly and futile self-recriminations. The time to mourn and grieve for the loss of Captain Laryen would come later but right now Toran had to be focused. The battle to come would surely be furiously and bloody, he would need all his cunning and rage if he was to exact vengeance on the Xeno foe.

The Captain blink clicked his vox and opened a private vox link to Furion saying, "Sergeant, how is our ammunition count?" Furion answered him, "Poor, if we encounter anything but token resistance we won't make it back to the spaceport. Either we divert to an ammunition cache or we request a resupply via drop-pod."

Toran snapped, "We don't have time for that, the foul Xenos are on our tail. We must redouble our pace and catch up with the survivors of Second Company; together we will turn and reap a terrible vengeance on these accursed beasts."

Furion glanced at his Captain and said, "Permission to speak freely?"

Toran was surprised to hear that said, "Of course."

Furion said, "Captain, I feel your need for vengeance as fiercely as you do but remember your Codex: rage is a tool to be used, not a wellspring of strategy. You must see the situation rationally: this battle is lost and we must resupply and fall back to the sixth defensive line in good order."

Toran took a deep breath, knowing Furion was right, haste and anger would only lead to disaster now. As always Furion was his pillar of strength and guidance, a giant morally as much as physically and his words cooled the Captain's fire. Toran nodded in understanding and opened the link squad wide, saying, "Persion, contact the Chapter Fleet, we need a resupply drop immediately." Persion however seemed to be having problems of his own, arguing over the vox link and barking at whoever was on the other end. Toran used his command overrides to patch in and caught a few words, but he was confused by what he heard, something about the evacuation and Thunderhawks being rerouted to their position.

Toran waited for a second then said, "Persion, report."

The communication specialist replied, "Sir, Thunderhawks are being sent from orbit to extract all Astartes forces from the planet, it's a general withdrawal. All forces are ordered to evacuate immediately."

Toran's jaw dropped and he said, "Retreat, but this war is not over yet."

Persion shook his head and said, "This comes from Chapter Master Gorgall himself, all Storm Heralds are ordered to retreat at once."

Bylan stepped up and said, "+But what of the civilians, there are thousands of innocents left in the city+"

His words were punctuated by the deep rumble of massive engines and in the distance the silhouette of a transport ship eclipsed the pair of tiny moons as it rose into the heavens, it was followed by another and another. Toran looked up, knowing that the ships couldn't even have been half filled by now and he said, "There is nothing more to be done for them, if we don't save whoever we can right now, then no one shall live to see another day."

Persion however had worse news, he grabbed his helm's vox link and said in a horrified voice, "Oh Throne no."

Toran pressed him, "What is it?"

Persion looked at him and said, "The Kryptman protocol has been put into effect, we are to deny the Hive Fleet any and all biomass to replenish itself. The Light of Terra is making her attack run as we speak... to deploy Cyclonic torpedoes!"

Toran was aghast and immediately shouted, "Get on the vox to those Thunderhawks, tell them to make haste! All squads prepare for immediate extraction, Veltri is about to be subjected to the Exterminatus!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Fame Cimex Chapter 4**

From the midnight sky a flight of blocky, cruciform shapes dived, pushing hard for the ground as their engines left blazing contrails behind them. They were Thunderhawk gunships and they were on a desperate extraction mission. They fell upon the city like a meteor shower, yet none of them impacted the earth for at the last moment they pulled up hard and fired braking rockets, slowing their descent with stunning speed.

Two of the gunships veered off and smacked into a nondescript street, filling the road with their bulk and sending clouds of dust spinning away. Even as their assault ramps were grinding down Captain Toran was leading his squads to meet them, racing into the thick choking dust. The Captain knew time was running out and they could brook no delay, there was no telling how long the Light of Terra had allotted for the extraction before it fired its world-breaking payload. Toran dashed to the ramp of the Thunderhawk and paused there to wave his brothers into the gunship, his command squad followed him along with the squads of Sergeant Priyar and Mylos. Chaplain Wrethan led the charge onto the other gunship, waving Sergeants Lorath and Zeax into its troop bay, followed by the bulky form of Ajax who took up the whole lower section by himself. Toran waved the last Marine aboard and the Captain hit the rune to close the ramp as he signalled the pilots, shouting "Go, go, go!"

The Thunderhawk's engines screamed as they surged to life, hurling the gunship back into the sky and tilting it back so that the craft stood on its tail as it shot vertically away from the ground. Inside Toran was almost thrown from his feet as G-Forces slammed into him, he quickly activated his armour's magnetic locks and his feet clamped to the deck, fixing him in place. Inertial forces pressed into him, making his reinforced bones creak and strain but he gritted his teeth and grabbed a support rail to cling on for dear life. After a few seconds the twisting disruptions vanished, leaving only a crushing G-force from one direction, but Toran was used to that. He disengaged one boot from the deck and stomped forwards, then clamped down and repeated the process, making his way slowly to the troop bay. In moments he had found an empty restraint cage and he backed into it, pulling the harness down to secure himself in its embrace.

The Thunderhawk rattled and shook as it fought for altitude, pressing everyone firmly back into their restraint cages. The G-forces were remarkable and even with a Transhuman physiology, Toran could feel his body being pushed to the limit. Persion seemed to agree for he shouted over the howling of the engines, "The pilots are shaking this crate apart, the Chapter Master must have cut it even closer than we thought!" Toran replied, "Let me see what is happening outside."

With a neural impulse Toran beseeched his armour to link into the Thunderhawk's external pict feeds, the machine spirit of the gunship resisted for a moment but then the Captain's armour barked authorisation overrides and the system yielded to him. Toran's vision dissolved into static for a moment and then came back, with a small corner of his vision taken up by a grainy, washed out monotone image. The Machine Spirit must have resented his intrusion for it only showed him the rearward feed, displaying the rapidly shrinking city beneath them.

The last bastion of Veltri was burning, streets awash with chitinous monsters that rampaged everywhere, from this altitude the city looked like it was being consumed by ants. Rising from the city was the great bulk of the civilian transports, fighting for lift with all that they had, even as scythed monsters clawed at their hulls. Alongside them were flights of Thunderhawks, all rising fast and carrying the Space Marines to safety. Toran could only hope that the pilots had managed to evacuate the entirety of the Chapter, for anyone left behind was surely dead. Over a private vox link Persion swore, "Warp Hells, look at that sky."

Toran was not the least bit surprised that Persion had cut into his officer-level only visual feed, the brother was born on the feral world of Trux and had a savage's disregard for petty rules and protocols. Toran implored the machine spirits to twist his vision about and saw what Persion was looking at. All around the gunship the sky was filled with flapping monsters, fanged monstrosities that swooped and dived upon the city below. It was not just gargoyles either for he saw Harridans and shrikes everywhere, along with beasts that he not seen before, even in the most detailed briefings.

There were mutated and twisted things swarming everywhere, living testaments to the Tyranid's hyper-evolutionary potential. There were floating gas bags with long tendrils hanging beneath them, dropping spores from jellyfish-like bodies. There were lso vast, bloated creatures hanging on ridiculously thin membranes over the city, each with mouths wide enough to swallow the gunship whole. And in the distance were the unmistakable silhouettes of capillary towers rising to the sky, preparing to convey this world's biomass to the hungry Hive Ships in orbit.

Toran had absolutely no idea how the Thunderhawk had managed to not collide with something so far, his respect for the pilot's skills raised a notch as the sky began to change from midnight blue to the pure black of space. Their desperate gambit seemed to be paying off, the Chapter would escape, but then Persion gasped in horror and Toran frantically switched his view trying to see what was going on. Not too far from them one of the civilian transport ships, a three-mile-long conveyor filled with thousands of innocents, was beset by swarms of flapping nightmares. Hideous beasts covering every inch of it, making it look like a rotten bone swarming in maggots, and they were hacking and biting their way through the hatches to get at the marrow inside. The Tyranid beasts were ripping and tearing the hatches open, dissolving the portals with acid if they had to, then dragging themselves within to feast.

Persion whispered, "We have to help them."

Toran replied grimly, "There's nothing we can do, they are dead already… they just don't know it yet."

Even as they watched the transport faltered, tilting over on its columns of thrust like a nautical ship capsizing. The transport began to list sideways as its crew were slaughtered and the great ship began a death dive back towards the planet, taking ten thousand screaming innocents to a fiery death.

Toran changed the feedback to the horizon and said to Persion over their link, "Speak not of what you just saw."

Persion protested, "But…"

Toran rebuked him, "I will have your silence on this matter, the Company has no need to know about this."

Their conversation was interrupted as Novak called, "Sir, are we clear yet?"

Toran switched his vox back to squad wide and said, "Almost, we are nearly into space, good job too for the Light of Terra is on her way."

Novak asked, "What is the blast radius of a Cyclonic Torpedo anyway?"

Furion answered him saying, "It depends really, how thick is the atmosphere of Veltri?"

From across the bay Bylan said, "+I can't believe we are burning a whole world+"

Brother Jediah commented, "Better that than letting the Tyranids feast, this may only be a hard-scrabble mining outpost but it's enough to increase their numbers significantly, we prevented that at least."

Persion said forlornly, "This was the Chapter's last chance to halt the Tyranid advance, our only shot at preventing them from reaching the Saint Karyl Trail. We can only trust that we have bled the Hive Mind enough here to make a difference."

Novak drew in a breath to ask another question but before he could speak the whole gunship rattled and shook as it was thrown across the sky.

Novak called, "The Cyclonic Torpedoes, we've been caught in the blast!"

Furion refuted that saying, "Don't be stupid, we'd already be dead, that was just the shockwave of their passage. They are on their way down now!"

Toran refocussed his vision to the rear and saw a bright star disappearing into their stern, they were well into the upper atmosphere now and from this altitude it took even a torpedo a full minute to reach the ground. Frantically his mind ran through the numbers, the Thunderhawks were on the edge of space and still climbing, but could they reach high enough before the Cyclonic torpedoes detonation?

How much of a safety margin had Chapter Master Gorgall been willing to grant them?

As he watched the light dwindled and shrunk, plummeting ever closer to the ground and then it hit the dirt in a terrific explosion. Toran's vision washed out for a second as a colossal fireball was born, enveloping the city below in a wave of fire. The entire urban environment was engulfed in star hot light and heat, vaporising flesh and stone and steel in one single second. From the centre a terrific shockwave was born, spreading outwards in every direction. Shattering buildings and loose structures, turning the air itself into a blizzard of shrapnel that would gut anything in its path, human or Xeno. Close behind that came a rolling wave of fire that swept the ground clean, incinerating everything it touched and rendering it down to ash.

The devastation in the first few seconds was immense but so far it had yet to exceed the capacity of an Atonomic bomb, tragically the greatest horror was yet to come. The arcane detonation of a cyclonic torpedo was designed by forgotten sciences to create artificial exotic elements, ones that could not possibly exist in nature outside the heat and radiation of a fusion reaction.

With the detonation all around the exotic elements began to catalyse a chain reaction, taking air molecules and separating out the oxygen while converting nitrogen into Hydrogen, explosive hydrogen. The whole world paused for an instant and then a second, bigger explosion filled the sky, racing outwards for miles around in every direction. The power of the blast was beyond any measurement, spreading and spreading over the ground at the speed of sound. The explosion also had the effect of creating new atoms of the exotic elements, which instantly began converting the atmosphere, creating an unstoppable chain reaction.

Even as Toran watched a self-sustaining fusion reaction raced out across the continent, engulfing all and burning everything into ash with the heat and fury of a star. And this was just one torpedo, there were a dozen more doing the exact same thing all over the hemisphere below them. As the Thunderhawk clawed its way into space, its engines switching from atmospheric flight to plasma thrust mode, the planet below was reduced to a lifeless husk. The world of Veltri was gone, but billions of Tyranids had died with it and the Hive Fleet had been denied a chance to feed and grow.

Toran shut off his visual feed and said, "It is done." The Space Marines fell silent as they gave respect to the people and the planet they had left behind. The ending of an entire world was an event to even give an Astartes pause, the death of an entire people and all they could ever have been was a tragedy beyond compare.

Long moments passed and then Persion said, "So what now?"

Toran spoke up to say, "Now we dock with the Light of Terra and blast a path for the civilian transports to escape through. There is still a whole Hive Fleet in orbit we need to fight off, then we link up with the rest of the Chapter and prepare for the next battle."

He concluded, "Make no mistake, we will fight the Tyranids once more and the dead of Veltri shall be avenged."


	5. Chapter 5

**Fame Cimex: Chapter 5**

In the depths of space war raged, the mighty proud bastions of Imperial warships fighting tooth and nail to survive in the cruellest of arenas. Arrayed against them were the endless swarms of Tyranid craft, filling surveyor screens with wave upon wave of abominations. Their claws twitched whilst their hides spewed acid and chitinous shards that ravaged armoured hulls, scything deeply within to wreak havoc.

Hanging in low orbit was the Battlebarge Light of Terra, her payload of Exterminatus class weapons had been delivered; now she was struggling to come about and make her withdrawal. In her wake followed a dozen civilian Transports, the last refugees from Veltri and they followed in the Astartes vessel's wake like chicks huddling under a mother hen's wings.

On the Light of Terra's bridge the crew of mortal serfs were working frantically to operate their vessel in the most fraught of circumstances. They bellowed orders and ran to and fro yet over all hung an air of desperation and the knowledge that they were failing to meet the challenge. Standing in the command dais was a single Astartes, clad in red and with a large servo arm looming over his head, he was a Techmarine and he did not seem to be having much success at organising this chaos. Into this bedlam ran Captain Toran and his command squad, fresh from the fight and having raced up from the landing bays. With them came Chaplain Wrethan and Apothecary Memnos, each having spent the journey into orbit tending to their respective ministries but now free to join their commander.

Toran practically leapt onto the dais and barked, "Techmarine Hevostan, Report!"

Hevostan addressed him in a surprisingly rich baritone and said, "The situation is grave, we are on the periphery of the battle but the bulk of the Tyranid splinter fleet lies between us and the rest of the task force. Chapter Master Gorgall is on the Battlebarge Thunderlord and is conducting a fighting withdrawal, but we are on our own."

Toran looked into the great Hololithic display that projected the battle zone outside, seeing the swarms of Vanguard drone ships surrounding the Battlebarge on all sides and he said, "Brothers take up your posts and beat some sense into the serfs, Furion take the Helm and Novak the Ordnance. Persion get to the Sensorium, Jediah the guns batteries and Bylan take over damage control."

Swiftly the command squad spread out and moved to their posts, each one of them quickly instilling discipline back into the panicked serfs. With order restored Toran assessed the situation and commanded, "Bring us to port and ready a broadside, we are going to blast ourselves an opening in the Tyranid lines. Signal the transports that they must keep pace, we cannot slow for any that fall behind." As the crew hurried to obey Wrethan said, "Those scows will slow us down; we should not risk the lives of the Emperor's Finest for a worthless rabble of mortals."

Memnos scowled and said, "Those worthless mortals are the Emperor's faithful, we are duty bound to lay down our lives to defend them."

Wrethan shook his head and said, "I did not expect such naivety from one trained by Chief Apothecary Lessall, our duty is to defend the entire Imperium. If we lay down our lives here then who will fight the next battle and the next, how many worlds could fall if we are not there to defend them?"

Memnos protested, "Abandon the defenceless to save ourselves, is that the wisdom of the Chaplaincy?"

Toran overrode their argument saying, "Masters, while I appreciate a theological debate as much as any brother, this is neither the time nor the place. We are not yet so desperate that we must make such a decision, not until we have no other options left. Now pay attention, the time has come to demonstrate the Emperor's power to these Xeno."

As one they all looked at the Hololith, seeing the targeting vectors align upon the swarms of Tyranids. There was a moment's delay and then Jediah reported, "The Machine Spirits have blessed us with a shooting solution."

Toran answered, "Then by all means… Fire!"

With a rumble of thunder the battlebarge unleashed it's might, firing waves of mass drivers, plasma annihilators, missile launchers and Turbolasers. A torrent of destruction leapt from the mighty vessel and smashed into the Tyranid escorts, blowing mottled hides open to the vacuum of space. Tyranid creatures fell limp as death claimed them and a hole was blown in their formation, a chance for the humans to escape. On the bridge Toran ordered, "This is it, take us right into that gap, Bombardment canons target stragglers and signal the Transports: All Ahead Full!"

Responding to his orders the great ship slowly swung about and moved into the narrow channel it had blown open. The Transports followed in her wake, but even straining their drives to maximum they could barely keep pace with the Astartes vessel. As the Battlebarge moved ponderously forward her bombardment canons spat fat shells into space, blasting apart stray Tyranids that ventured too close. Memnos was staring at the Hololith and said, "We are doing it, as long as we can keep this corridor open we can disengage from the combat zone."

Wrethan frowned and said, "The Tyranids are just milling about, why aren't they reforming and coming at us en-mass?"

Toran answered him, "Look at the splinter fleet's formation; mainly escort and cruisers with only two contacts large enough to be classed as proper Hive Ships. We are on the edge of synapse range out here and the escorts have lost their connection to the Hive Mind. They are reacting on instinctive behaviour, each one fighting their own war without higher coordination."

Suddenly there was a cry from the Sensorium and Persion cried, "Incoming, incoming! We have six cruiser sized Bio-ships closing on our position, logic engines designate them as Razorfiends."

Toran looked at the Hololith and cursed, "Damnation, they are moving to cut us off, our escape window will close before we can disengage."

Wrethan said, "They are coming at us head-on, if we turn right at them we can break through in one pass. Then we can then run out the drives and break out for deep space before they can come about to give pursuit."

"No," said Toran, "The Transports will never survive such an engagement, we will be fortunate to escape with even one or two of them."

Wrethan said, "That may be acceptable losses given the circumstances."

Toran shook him off and said, "No, not yet, not when I have fight left in my body."

Wrethan placed an open hand on Toran's pauldron and said quietly, "Toran, sometimes you cannot save everyone. You must fight to save those who have a chance at life; the rest is in the hands of the Divine Emperor."

Toran shook him off and declared loudly for all to hear, "The Emperor created us to defend humanity and that is what I intend to do. Helm come to course, three-zero-one mark zero-zero-seven, set for three-quarters thrust. Communications, signal the Transport to stick to us like glue!"

As the great battlebarge came about Memnos said to Wrethan, "What's he doing?"

Wrethan frowned and said, "He's plotting a course towards Veltri's twin moons… no correct that, he's heading right between them."

Memnos looked puzzled and said, "Surely he doesn't think their gravity will deter the Tyranids?"

Wrethan replied, "He is the Captain, our role is to advise and support, his is to make the command decisions."

As the pair watched the tiny moons of Veltri grew in the Hololith, spinning around a common centre of gravity as they orbited the dead world. They were minuscule things in space terms, more large asteroids than actual moons and they sat in a low orbit that saw them circle Veltri every ten hours. Yet as the Imperials closed their gravity still affected the ships, drawing them closer and increasing their speed, but not nearly enough. On the bridge Persion cried, "Razorfiends closing!"

Novak called, "Request permission to launch Thunderhawks to intercept?"

"Denied," Toran barked, "We cannot wait to recover them; anyone who goes out there is not coming back."

Suddenly Persion cried, "Razorfiends targeting us, all of them!"

Toran roared, "Brace for impact!"

Across the pitiless black the Razorfiends closed, opening orifices over their bony prows and spitting forth a torrent of bioweapon fire. Giant shards of chitin were hurled into the void along with waves of seething acid and beetles the size of gunships, whose only function in life was to chew and rend and tear. The volley engulfed the Light of Terra, blistering her shields and making them quiver and distort, but worse was to come. A wave of bio-plasma swept in, bypassing the shields completely. The seething energy hit the Light of Terra, melting through dorsal armour to vent compartments and spill oxygen, munitions and men into the vacuum.

The bridge was a scene of shaking tremours and thunderous noise while Toran was roaring, "Damage report!"

Bylan called, "+Direct hit to the dorsal armour, extensive damage to upper quadrants, no way to estimate casualties at this time+"

Jediah called, "Permission to return fire?"

Toran cried, "No, we are almost to the moons, we want the Tyranids to follow us."

Memnos looked at the Captain suspiciously and said, "Follow us… you're plotting something aren't you?"

Toran gave him a knowing look and called, "Hevostan, are we ready?"

The forgotten Techmarine checked an arcane runebank and said, "Ready and waiting, all we need is for them to get in position."

Toran nodded and declared, "Fire control is at your discretion, now all hands hold on, here we go!"

On a comet tail of plasma thrust the Light of Terra and her gaggle of transports dived between the two moons, passing by with no more than a thousand kilometres of clearance to either side. The Razorfiends closed hard on their tail, chasing them with an instinctive hunger driving them on, yet unaware that they were racing into a trap.

As the two groups of ships passed by, hidden emplacements on the asteroid moons came to life. Servitor guided motors shifting large launch rails into position and making minuscule adjustments. Then a silent vox impulse triggered a pre-programmed launch sequence. With a blaze of fire a score of Torpedoes leapt into the night sky, incinerating the launch sites behind them and burning the servitors to ash. The Torpedoes hurtled into the void, effortlessly overcoming the asteroid's attraction, they were sleek and deadly killers, armed and seeking for targets. Trapped between the gravity of the two moons the Razorfiends could not move to evade and they were helpless as the torpedoes closed. The roaring cylinders closed and plunged upon them then searing balls of plasma fire burst into life as the warheads detonated. Two of the Razorfiends disappeared in the annihilating explosions and the rest fell behind, struggling to not be knocked into a moon's gravity well by the blasts.

With the Tyranids stymied the Imperial fled, the Light of Terra leading the transports into the blessed safety of interplanetary space. On her bridge the serfs were cheering and Wrethan was leading a hymn of thanksgiving as the Space Marines rattled their chestplates with armoured gauntlets. On the dais, Memnos turned to Toran and said, "What in the name of Him on Terra, gave you the idea to set that up?"

Toran slowly exhaled a tense breath and said "Codex Astartes Vol I, Chapter XVIII, verse V."

Memnos replied by rote, "In war exists the folly of thinking that the path to victory will be via the most direct route, but unexpected changes of fortune are inevitable. Sometimes created by yourself but more often by the enemy. The commander who is best prepared to meet these changes will prove victorious, thus before a battle is joined one should always prepare a contingency plan."

Toran nodded and said, "Exactly, given the nature of the enemy Hevostan and I agreed that it would be prudent to take precautions should we need to leave in haste."

Memnos shook his head in disbelief and said, "Well I for one am glad you thought ahead."

Toran nodded thankfully then turned to Wrethan and said, "Chaplain, you have the bridge, plot a course to rendezvous with the rest of the Chapter. I have matters to attend to in my quarters."


	6. Chapter 6

**Fame Cimex Chapter 6**

Down the passages of the Battlebarge Captain Toran strode, passing serfs and servitors without comment, for his pace was rapid and brooked no delay. As he marched his fists were balled into tight fists, while the clenched line of his jaw and the furious glare of his augmetic eye betrayed his thoughts.

Suddenly he came to a non-descript hatch and he pounded his personal access code into the rune panel causing the door to slide up out of the way, Toran stomped through and found himself in an officer's quarters. It was considerably larger than the standard initiate's cells and contained various features not found in a regular billet. There was a reliquary and weapon's maintenance bench, a large desk covered in reports and missives and a small shrine in one corner. The walls were covered with soft Nalwood panels, an exorbitant expense now the world of Tanith was gone. One wall held a long mirror and opposite that was a small Hololith projector. Toran found all this a trifle ostentatious and unnecessary, but the room was older than he was so he could not really comment.

Sitting at the desk and working through the reports was a mortal serf, an equerry appointed to him upon his promotion. The man's name was Jareq and he stood to bow as the Captain entered saying, "Welcome Master, there are one hundred and fifty-seven urgent messages requiring your attention."

"Leave" Toran growled, "Now."

Jareq bowed again and hurried out, closing the hatch behind him as Toran stood glaring at the walls. He breathed hard, as if he had been in combat but he was utterly still. Suddenly he turned and stomped over to the reliquary and drew the Sword of Thiel. He grabbed a cleaning cloth and a pot of blessed oil and briskly wiped off the Xeno ichor from the blade, then he shoved the weapon into its receptacle and slammed the doors. Many brothers would have been horrified by such disrespectful handling of a treasured relic weapon, but right now Toran didn't care.

He threw his bolter onto the maintenance bench then growled, "Attend me." From an alcove a pair of servitors trundled forwards, their mechanical arms fitted with lathes, screwdrivers and drill bits. They rolled forwards on caterpillar tracks and began removing his artificer armour, the arming servitors were another privilege of rank, a Master of the Chapter could hardly strip off his plate with the rest of the Marines.

The process of removing his armour was not a swift one, first each ceramite plate and the backpack had to be removed with due reverence and placed onto an arming stand. Then the fibre-bundle muscle layer below had to be stripped away as the servitors intoned appeasing litanies to the machine spirits. Finally his undersheath had to be peeled off and the connections to his implanted neural interface sockets removed in ritual order. Through it all Toran stood there fuming, fists clenching and unclenching as the monotone servitors droned on. Finally he stood there naked, his muscles covered in a network of scars and burns that testified to a lifetime of war. He grabbed a plain blue robe from a drawer in the wall and shrugged it on, then threw himself onto a stool before the maintenance bench.

Toran drummed his fingers for a moment then picked up his bolter, it was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, worked and ornamented to a ridiculous degree. At its heart lay a standard Godwyn Mark Vb bolt-rifle, with a sickle pattern magazine that held thirty 0.75 calibre rounds, but every inch of it was tooled to surpassing quality. It also had several features that a standard bolter did not boast, micro-suspensors to compensate for recoil, magnetic accelerators along the barrel to increase armour penetration and a targeting uplink to his autosenses.

Toran swiftly dismantled the weapon in the time-honoured ritual manner, muttering litanies under his breath the whole time. Once the rifle was disassembled he grabbed a cleaning cloth and dipped it in cleansing oils and began attending to his weapon. He rubbed dirt and debris off the casing and soothed the firing mechanism with appeasing unguents. He cleared carbon scoring out of the barrel with a soft brush and polished the engravings over its casing.

When he reached the firing pin he scowled, a speck of grit was caught in the mechanism, grinding against the action. Toran paused and closed his organic eye, replaying the fight on Veltri in his eidetic memory. Yes there it was, a point zero two second delay every time he pulled the trigger, totally unacceptable. Suddenly Toran froze, the thought of Veltri making his hands shake and his jaw clench. He replayed the war over and over in his mind's eye and felt a fury growing within him at the outcome, the losses and the deaths that had occurred.

Something in Toran snapped and he screamed in rage, he stood up and grabbed the bench in both hands and effortlessly flipped it over, spilling tools, oils and his dismantled bolter all over the floor. He roared and threw the brush in his hand at the wall, it impacted the wooden panels handle first with such force that it stuck there like a dart on a board. Toran turned looking for something to hit and his fist lashed out at the large mirror, shattering it to spray jagged pieces of glass everywhere in a shower of glass. Toran was breathing hard, his chest heaving with rage, he wanted to commit more destruction. He wanted to kill something, anything, he wanted to kill and kill and kill until the pain disappeared in a tide of spilled blood.

But then he saw something.

In the shattered shards upon the floor Toran glimpsed his reflection, it was twisted and distorted, caught somewhere between rage and madness, completely warped into something not quite human. Toran could not tell if it was the twisted glass or his own face but in that second he looked less like a noble Space Marine and more like a berserker of Chaos. Toran staggered back aghast at what he had done, the loss of discipline he had displayed was unforgivable, a Space Marine could not afford to lose his self-control at any time. He looked at his bleeding hand, embedded with splinters of glass and whispered, "What is wrong with me?"

His distress was interrupted as the door chime sounded and without even thinking about it his mouth automatically said, "Come in."

The door rolled upwards to reveal two armoured figures, one a giant in Mark III plate, the other in black ceramite adorned with decorative skulls. It was Sergeant Furion and Chaplain Wrethan and they stood in the doorway, looking shocked at what they saw within the room. These two were hardly comrades, but if the pair of them had come together then that spoke volumes about the seriousness of the situation.

Furion stepped in and said, "Looks like we got here just in time."

Toran lowered his fist and said, "What are you doing here?"

Wrethan answered, "The way you hared off from the bridge raised more than a few eyebrows. We decided to come talk to you."

Toran frowned and said, "Who is manning the bridge?"

Wrethan replied, "Persion."

Toran looked surprised and said, "You left Persion in charge?"

Furion answered with a straight face, "You would prefer it if we had left Novak running things?"

Toran snorted at that and a faint grin tugged at his lip, he lowered his fist and waved at the desk covered in reports saying, "You had better sit down."

The three Space Marines sat down in reinforced chairs and Wrethan said, "Care to tell us what's bothering you?"

Toran said, "You have to ask?"

Furion nodded and said, "Veltri."

Toran nodded and said, "We took eight hundred Brothers to save that world and were sent packing in short order."

Wrethan nodded sagely and said, "Defeat is never an easy thing to process, there is a reason we have rituals of mourning and lamentation. This is a dark day but it does not rest upon your shoulders alone, the whole Storm Heralds Chapter saw the bitterest of reversals. You did as much as could be done, more in fact, without you those transport ships would never have made it out. One hundred and twenty thousand souls saved…. I could not have done that."

Toran clenched his fist and said, "One hundred and twenty thousand… out of a population of seventeen million."

Furion said consolingly, "You saved something Captain, it was more than anyone could have hoped for. But that is not what is really bothering you… this is personal."

Toran looked down and confessed, "Captain Laryen."

Wrethan crossed his hands and said, "Ah I see... yes the loss of a good officer and his men is hard to bear, especially as you were in charge of their rescue mission."

Toran couldn't look at them and said, "I can't shake it, I keep thinking if only I had been faster, pushed the squads harder, taken a riskier route, maybe I could have saved them."

Wrethan frowned and said, "Toran…"

But the Captain interrupted by spitting the words he had been holding back, the secret that had been souring his soul, "I failed! Since the first day of my induction it has been drilled into me that defeat is not an option, that failure will not be tolerated… yet today I was charged with a mission and fell short."

Furion drew in a slow breath and said, "Captain, if you don't mind me saying, this is a situation you are ill-equipped to handle. I have known you for nigh on a century now and I have seen you pull off some remarkable victories, especially when conventional wisdom says you should have fallen. Even those times you were bested it was only by betrayal or unexpected circumstance, this is the first time you have known true defeat. It is a test you must overcome as any other."

"How," Toran said, "How do I face the Brothers after this?"

Wrethan replied, "It is easy to command when the fighting goes well, but the true test of leadership is to lead when the times are hard. When all you want to do is lie down and die, but still knowing that your men need you to stand proud and lead them onwards. Remember your codex, the Primarch himself wrote: No leader can claim to have known only victory, for all must taste the bitterness of defeat at some point. A leader who has not known defeat, at least once, is of no worth for it is only when all pretensions are laid bare that one can learn and grow."

Toran shook his head and said, "How am I to learn from this?"

"By being better," Furion answered, "By taking the harsh lessons of defeat within yourself and using the fire of your rage to forge a sterner, harder warrior. Let this be your apotheosis, you must become a greater Captain than you have been up till now and lead your men better than you have before."

Toran looked up and said, "How am I supposed to start going about that?"

Furion answered, "Ultimately no victory is ever total, no defeat is ever complete, it is he who has the courage to continue that will emerge victorious."

Toran stared at him quizzically saying, "I don't recall that passage from the Codex."

Furion smirked and said, "Still sounded good though, didn't it."

Toran couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter, his tension easing as he looked at his comrades and he said, "My thanks, you have been a beacon in my darkest hour."

"It is our honour to serve," said Wrethan, "Now clean up this mess and show some contrition for the poor treatment you have given that bolter. Meet us on the bridge when you are ready, Chapter Master Gorgall has called for a command conference once the fleet reassembles, the Chapter needs to plan our next step in this war."


	7. Chapter 7

**Fame Cimex Chapter 7**

The Strategium of the Battlebarge Thunderlord was a place where history had been made, a chamber where the fate of whole worlds had been decided. It was a recreation of an ancient senate chamber, clad in marble and with graceful fluted columns that rose to a shallow dome. Upon that dome was projected a pict image of the stars outside the Battlebarge, while the walls were plain, minimalist and understated. The chamber was bereft of ornamentation save for a single golden Aquila honouring Him on Terra.

Into that space strode Captain Toran, his wargear still bearing nicks and gouges from battle, but that only lent him a rough, honest dignity that seemed to suit him. He had shuttled over from the Light of Terra as soon as the fleet had reached its rendezvous point, well beyond the claws of the Tyranid splinter fleet.

Toran entered the council chamber and he saw that he was the last to arrive, the rest of the Captains and Masters standing in knots around a wide, round table, surrounded by chairs engraved with their heraldries. Toran glanced at the table and saw that the chairs of the First, Second and Third Companies were shrouded in black sheets of mourning; their respective Captains had all fallen recent wars and so fierce had the fighting been since that no replacements had yet been appointed.

The chair of tenth Captain Judio was tastefully draped with a grey veil; the Master of Recruits had stayed on Lujan II with the Chapter's aspirants, for it had been decreed that should the battle go ill the next generation of the Storm Heralds must survive. The chair of sixth Captain Erathor was also veiled, Toran was glad of that for Erathor was a staggeringly arrogant officer and he could not think of anyone who he would rather see left behind to garrison the Fortress-Monastery. Toran glanced around the rest of the assembly and saw that their placements hinted at their various factions, and the deep political divides that existed between them.

Standing near the head of the table was Chapter Master Gorgall, even in his glorious artificer armour he was a lean and spare individual, with absolutely nothing wasted about him. With the loss of the First Captain he had taken direct command of First Company and fought harder than anyone else, but the defeat wore heavily upon him and he looked more tired than Toran had ever seen him. Gorgall technically had the power to order the Chapter as he saw fit, but his moderate policies were unpopular and the discontent was growing into outright factionalism and a doctrinal schism among the Masters.

Yet standing with him was his greatest supporter, Ninth Captain Phalros; he was a stern, patrician Marine who looked more suited to a senatorial debating chamber than the field of battle. With him was Techmarine Hevostan, since the Forgemaster could not leave the Fortress Monastery Hevostan typically acted as his equerry and was here merely to observe proceedings.

Across the chamber stood another group, first was Chief Apothecary Lessall, a brutal and heavily scarred warrior-healer whose face had a permanent bitter scowl. Lessall was the leader of a faction that worshipped the Emperor as a divine being and sought to break with the rule of the High Lords, they wanted the Storm Heralds to assert their right to act as a completely autonomous Chapter. This was in direct contradiction to Gorgall's more moderate policies and the two sides were engaged in a struggle for political supremacy.

Standing with Lessall was the skull-masked Master of Sanctity, Samect, who was Lessall's most fanatical supporter. With them was also Fourth Captain Jossat, a harsh and driven leader who boasted a proud but costly record of victories. Together these three represented the leaders of the Emperor-worshipping faction, the Master Apothecary, the Head Chaplain and a Battle-Captain. No wonder they were making such headway, now the only thing holding them back was the absolute authority of the Chapter Master's office.

Toran frowned when he saw Fifth Captain Tygra was standing with them, his face bearing the pale angular features of one born to the secondary recruiting world of Trux. He was a ruthless and ambitious officer, and his positioning worried Toran, could it be that Tygra had thrown his lot in with the Emperor-Worshippers?

The last knot of Masters represented those yet undeclared in the power struggle, there was Eighth Captain Hakulo, another native of Trux, infamous for his aggressive, brutal approach to warfare. There was also Seventh Captain Maxitio, a classic example of a proper Space Marine, everything about him was utterly precise and exact and there was the faintest echo of the Primarch about his face. Last of all was Chief Librarian Echeb, a mysterious and eldritch figure, the brotherhood of psykers was neutral in this power struggle and absolutely everybody was happy to leave it that way.

Toran strode into the chamber and Gorgall declared, "Ah here you are at last. Everybody be seated." With that everybody filed to their various seats, Toran taking a plain chair at the table. When everybody was seated Gorgall declared, "Fellow Masters, we are gathered here to evaluate this operation and determine the next course of action for the Storm Heralds."

"Operation?!" spat Lessall as he leaned forward, "Is that what you call this debacle, a shameful defeat and the loss of Captain Laryen. The Chapter bleeds and all for a pathetic hardscrabble mining world, not worth the effort to defend it!"

Captain Phalros sat up and retorted, "It was necessary, Veltri was the last line of defence before the Saint Karyl Trail itself. We had to try to stop the Tyranid's advance; it was our only chance to avert a catastrophe."

Jossat sneered and said, "A wasted chance, this campaign was bungled from the start, we should have crushed the Xenos not fallen back like cowards!"

Captain Maxitio slapped a hand upon the table at the not-so-subtle criticism of the Chapter Master and he declared, "This is pointless, what is done is done, we should not waste our energies on futile recriminations but focus our attention upon the future."

Captain Hakulo snarled, "The key to fighting the Tyranids is to take out the Hive ships, I say we take our entire fleet and ram it down their throats. Gut the biggest beasts and leave the stragglers to wither on the vine!"

Phalros shook his head and said, "We've been trying that for months, the splinter fleet is too densely packed. We would be annihilated without even scratching the Hive Ships."

Hakulo snorted and said, "Perhaps we have not been trying hard enough, I am willing to risk it."

"Enough," said Gorgall stilling the debate, "This war will not be won with raging hearts but by cool heads and ruthless precision. Echeb, what is the strategic situation?"

The Chief Librarian activated the Hololith built into the table and a map of Segmentum Tempestus sprang up, he waved a hand and said, "As you all know Hive Fleet Leviathan encroaches from below the galactic plane and the Imperium is hard-pressed to resist it. But the Xeno are not mindless beasts; see here and here, they send out splinter fleets to spread the Shadow of the Hive Mind ahead of their advance. At the present time all the key Warp Routes between Segmentums Solar and Tempestus have been engulfed, all save one: the Saint Karyl Trail."

Phalros looked glum and said, "If it falls then the southern third of the galaxy will be cut off, ships will have to travel thousands of light years off course to avoid the disruption. Imperial resistance will wither, Segmentum Tempestus will be lost and soon after the Imperium itself."

Echeb nodded and replied, "With the loss of Veltri the Xenos have a clear run to the Trail. The nearest planet is the Hive world Angle's Redoubt, only twelve light years away."

"We absolutely cannot allow that world to fall," declared Gorgall, "How long will it take us to get there?"

Echeb's face fell and he said, "We are still enveloped in the Shadow of the Hive Mind and we dare not risk anything more than the shortest Warp hops. It will take considerable time to clear the interference, I estimate it will be weeks until we can transmit Astropathic warnings and several months more until we can risk a Navigator guided jump."

Gorgall rubbed his chin and said, "Then the question becomes, how shall we face them?"

Captain Tygra declared, "Let the planetary defences wear down the Hive Fleet as they deploy to the ground, then we enact the Krytpman protocol, burn them to ash and leave the fleet vulnerable to an attack from the rear!"

That statement caused much consternation and Maxitio gasped in horror, "You would condemn an Imperial world without even raising a finger to defend it. We have just seen one world burn, is that not enough for you?!"

Chaplain Samect retorted from under his skull helm, "Is it not written that the blood of martyrs is the seed of the Imperium."

Phalros glared and said, "You shame us, to leave others to fight while we cower is not the way of the Adeptus Astartes."

Apothecary Lessall snorted and said, "There are bigger concerns than the fate of one world, the entire galaxy hangs in the balance."

Toran spoke up for the first time saying, "But we will not fight alone this time!"

Lessall glared at him angrily and said, "Do not think to speak here whelp, you who let Captain Laryen die. What good was your precious 'Primarch's Own' then?"

Gorgall cut him off saying, "Let the man speak."

Toran saw everybody was staring at him and drew in a slow breath before saying, "Angle's Redoubt is not Veltri, the defences there are mighty and the guards many. There are layers of orbital platforms and minefields, regiments of Guardsmen and Warships aplenty, only the naval base at Tectum boasts a more potent defence. We will find no greater concentration of military might anywhere for a thousand light years."

Gorgall nodded and declared, "He speaks the truth and I have made my decision, we shall make our stand with the rest of humanity and rise or fall as one."

Lessall though scowled and argued, "You know that the Imperial Adepts despise us and our ways, do you think they will willingly fight alongside us?"

Gorgall rubbed his chin and said, "True, we have had our difficulties… very well we shall have to tip the scales in our favour. Captains, I know you all have spent much time making allies beyond the Chapter; now I want you to summon all of them. Once we clear the interference start broadcasting Astropathic messages to anyone and everyone you can call a friend. Call in every favour and debt you have, tell them that the Chapter is making its last stand and that the Storm Heralds call for aid."

Everybody nodded in obedience to the Chapter Master's order, some more reluctantly than others, and Gorgall said, "Now if there is no other business."

Captain Maxitio spoke up saying, "Actually there is one: our order of battle is sorely lacking. We are short three Captains and Second Company is without a leader."

Lessall said, "So promote a Sergeant and be done with it."

Phalros shook his head and said, "No, it will take too long to bring them up to speed, we need an experienced hand."

Chief Librarian Echeb surprised everyone by saying, "What about Captain Toran?"

That made jaws drop and Lessall spat, "Him?!"

Gorgall looked thoughtful and said, "Well he has proved to be a competent officer these past two years and his little Demi-Company has been an extremely odd aberration in our ranks."

Lessall scowled but it was Samect who growled, "Second Company has just lost its beloved leader, to insert an outsider so quickly would send the wrong message. Perhaps one of my Chaplains could take them in hand…"

Gorgall overruled the blatant attempt by his rivals to appoint one of their own by saying, "No it is time that we squared this circle, we have a Company without a Captain and a Captain without a Company: a good fit."

Lessall made one last attempt to block the appointment saying, "But Second Company needs time to mourn."

Gorgall replied, "True… which is why the post of Second Captain will be left vacant for now, the surviving squads will instead be merged with Toran's forces and form a new Third Company. May I be the first to offer you my congratulations, Third Captain Toran."


	8. Chapter 8

**Fame Cimex Chapter 8**

"Third Company" the words came, rolling around the tongue as the speaker tried them out, "Thirrrd Company, third commmpany, Third Companyyy."

"Would you stop that," barked Furion with a glare "We all know what were called now."

Persion looked up and replied, "I am just trying to get my head around the concept."

In Toran's quarters the Command squad and the existing Sergeants were gathered, there was also the serf Jareq sitting quietly in the corner taking minutes of the meeting. Toran had just broken the news that they were to be merged with another formation and become a proper Battle Company. The change had shocked everyone and they were all processing the new status quo.

Bylan was practically beaming with pride that Toran, his personal hero, had been set so high in the command structure and he said, "+This is a high honour, we have been covered in glory+"

Persion commented, "That's the problem, I've spent my whole life in the Reserves or a scratch company. I've gotten used to being looked down upon by those glory hogs in the Battle Companies, now I am one of those glory hogs. I don't know if I cope with that."

"Get used to it," growled Furion, "We are a Battle Company now, no more running about in sewers for us. We are the front line now, the glorious cutting edge of the Chapter's blade."

Novak declared, "Well I for one think this is great news, if you are Third Captain that means you are above all the other Captains... you can boss anyone about now."

Without any expression at all Furion extended his arm and swung it about to clip Novak about the back of the head as he wearily said, "No he can't hes still the most junior of all the officers and if you value your position as Champion you will never, ever repeat that where any Master can hear you. You will spend the rest of your life wielding a scrubbing brush and battling dirty latrines."

Novak rubbed the back of his skull but there was a faint grin on his lips that hinted how much he had enjoyed pushing everybody's buttons. Meanwhile Jediah rolled his eyes and said, "What was that bit about finding allies?"

Toran was stood by his desk and said, "Chapter Master Gorgall wants us to call in all our favours, he says it is time to stand with our allies."

Furion said, "Well you can certainly be of help there, you have made friends within the Mechanicus, the navy and even other Chapters."

Toran nodded and said, "I will start sending missives as soon as we emerge from the Shadow in the Warp. The Imperium should have a few months warning before the Tyranids arrive at Angle's Redoubt, we can only hope it is enough time to rush reinforcements to the system."

Sergeant Priyar interjected, "Before we think about fighting a war we first have to merge two unfamiliar formations into one whole. We only have three months to get ourselves into fighting trim and a hell of a lot to do first."

Sergeant Zeax said, "Shouldn't be that hard."

Sergeant Mylos spoke up, he had appointed himself the Company's nay-smith and he said, "You underestimate the challenge ahead, the newcomers have just lost their beloved Captain and now they are being reformed. Morale will be at rock bottom and combat efficiency will be poor."

Sergeant Lorath snorted in a dismissal of ideas of morale and said, "He's a Captain, they are initiates. Give them orders and they will obey."

Toran raised a hand and said, "No Mylos is right, we need to build a firm foundation from the start or this will all fall apart. I am planning to speak to each new Sergeant individually and build trust, I will start with that Sergeant Matheus, he seemed competent."

"Matheus?" said Priyar.

Toran raised an eyebrow and said, "You know him?"

"Yes," replied Priyar, "We fought together in First Company before he got shipped out to serve under Captain Laryen. Matheus is a good choice, fierce and driven, his only weakness is he's a real stickler for the rules, does everything by the Codex. He was a considered to be on a fast track for command, maybe even in line for a Captaincy one day… until you came along and stole all his thunder. If you can win him over it will go a long way to smoothing the transition."

Toran nodded and said, "Excellent, we will begin there, now get back to your squads and spread the news, make sure they know that the Emperor expects them to treat the newcomers with all honour. We have months of hard training ahead and I don't want to start with sour relations."

The assembly saluted with the sign of the Aquilla and filed out, leaving Toran alone with his serf equerry. The Captain watched them go then walked to his desk; he settled down and sighed when Jareq cleared this throat and discretely pushed a mound of unread parchments forwards. Toran had thought that the red tape was bad when he was Sergeant, but a Captain's paperwork staggered belief. He grabbed the first page and wondered what the Imperial preachers would say if they saw one of the Emperor's Angels, a mighty Space Marine, sitting at a desk to do battle with files and clerking.

Toran put his head down and started reading but after a few minutes the door chimed and Toran eagerly shoved the parchments aside to say, "Come!" The door rolled back and a Space Marine stood there in Storm Herald blue, Toran looked him over and saw Veteran Sergeant Matheus, still in Second company heraldry. Matheus was a grizzled warrior, with a large scar that ran up over his head, splitting his short cropped hair. Yet he had only a single service stud in his forehead, he had served for only a century and so was only slightly older than Toran. Toran sat watching as Matheus marched in and stiffly stood to attention before his desk. Toran crossed his hands and said, "Welcome Veteran Sergeant Matheus, you were very prompt. Now I trust that you have been informed of the recent changes in our order of battle."

Matheus stood ramrod straight and barked, "Yes Sir."

Toran blinked at the brisk answer and said, "I know that this is a harsh change, especially with the tragic loss of Captain Laryen, but I want this to be a smooth transition. Are the squads ready for such an abrupt reordering?"

Matheus was staring right over Toran's shoulder and he said, "Yes Sir."

Toran frowned for he knew when he was being given the run-around, he had done it himself. The Captain raised an eyebrow and said, "Sergeant, is there a problem I should be aware of."

Matheus replied, "No Sir."

Toran picked up a report and made a show of flicking through it, he had memorised it perfectly of course but a bit of theatre never hurt. He said, "Sergeant your record is commendable, a swift rise through the Reserves, followed by exemplary service in Second Company and then promotion to First Company following the great triumph at Rashack Fall. Three decades of Terminator service then a transfer back to Second Company to serve as a Veteran under Captain Laryen. It's fair to say you are one of the Chapter's rising stars, but I imagine losing your Captain has been a blow. It must be hard for your Squads and you personally."

Matheus replied, "Couldn't comment Sir."

Toran saw that this was going entirely wrong and sighed, "Jareq, go get a Recaf."

The serf blinked and said, "Master?"

Toran said, "Be somewhere else."

The serf stood and bowed before leaving, Toran waited a moment then waved to a chair and said to Matheus, "Can we speak, off the record for a moment."

Matheus looked wary but sat down and said, "What would you like to talk about?"

Toran replied, "You don't seem very happy about this assignment."

Matheus said carefully, "I wouldn't like to speak out of turn to an officer… Sir."

Toran reached to his chestplate and removed his rank badge and golden chain, he set it on the desk and said, "I need honesty from you, so for the next few minutes we are just two brothers. So tell me what's bothering you, is it Captain Laryen's death?"

Matheus eyed the rank pin for a moment then said, "No… my problem is not Laryen. It is you."

Toran was surprised and said, "I wasn't aware we had served together before."

Matheus leaned back and said, "You have quite a reputation and it's not all good. You came out of nowhere and suddenly you're the hero of the Chapter, saving the Fortress-Monastery, wielding the Sword of Thiel, commanding a Battlebarge. Some brothers see you as the next Lord Solar Macharius, others as an arrogant glory hog, pushing an inflated reputation to oust better battle-brothers. Whether you meant it or not, you have become a divisive figure and that's not good for the Chapter."

Toran was surprised to hear that and said, "And you believe this?"

Matheus replied, "I am not blind, the Master's infighting has become obvious, five years ago we could all pretend that this was a united Chapter but now it's tearing us apart. Chapter Master Gorgall wants to stop the Emperor-Worship and all of a sudden his favourite protégé gets a rushed promotion. He's manoeuvring you like a pawn, to be his own man in the Battle-Companies. Then there this 'Primarch's Own' business, it carries the stink of the old Warrior-Lodges that led to the Horus Heresy. Frankly it looks to me like you are building a cult upon the legacy of your weapon, a cult dedicated only to yourself."

"I... thank you for your honesty," said Toran slowly somewhat shocked by the accusation and he said, "I was not aware that I had become so controversial. I never meant to elevate myself in such a manner; I only wanted to do what was best for the Chapter."

Matheus replied, "I wish I could trust that."

Toran said, "Trust is earned… very well I shall have to prove my intent to you."

Toran stood up and Matheus followed as he walked over to the reliquary and opened it, within the Sword of Thiel sat in its case. Matheus bowed reverently at the sight and Toran picked it up saying, "This relic has been with the Chapter since our Founding, it has been carried by the greatest of heroes and is revered by all. But it has a secret, a secret known only to a handful."

Toran suddenly flipped the handle up and tossed it into the air saying, "Catch."

Matheus reacted instinctively, grabbing the handle and his eyes went wide at the sight of the relic weapon in his hands, he blustered, "What?!"

Toran quickly said, "Look at it, really look. Do you see any aura of divine splendour? Do you feel the power of the Primarch coursing through you… no? Because there is no such thing, this is a sword, a good one yes but still only a sword. A weapon is a weapon and a company is a company, no more no less. I intend nothing more than to be a good Captain and you should know that I have expressly forbidden my men from using the word 'Primarch's Own' at any time."

Matheus looked uncertain, he gazed at the sword in his hand then at Toran. Long seconds passed then he sighed and said, "It seems I owe you an apology, you are no political animal afterall and you are certainly not building a cult. You seem a good officer if a trifle naïve about how things are in this Chapter."

Toran smiled and said, "Then perhaps we could start afresh, I will be the best Captain I can be if you, in turn, can be the best Sergeant you can be."

Matheus nodded then he gave the sword an experimental swing, he handed it back saying, "That is a good sword, wear it proudly and lead us well, we will follow you… Captain."

Toran took back the sword saying, "That is all I hope for, now let us talk about how to shape this new Third Company. We have a lot to arrange and only a few months to whip these squads into shape."


	9. Chapter 9

**Fame Cimex Chapter 9**

The orbital lanes around Angle's Redoubt were always choked with traffic, on any given day the Hive World would be ringed by clouds of transport ships and Mass Conveyors. Orbital docks would bustle with activity as vessels jostled for berths, while civilian crews would argue with dock masters over priorities and the size of the bribes necessary to be moved up the queue. Swarms of shuttles and cargo lighters would stream to and from orbit, taking heavy loads of raw material down to the hungry manufactories in the cities and bring up refined goods and weapons in return.

It would not be just civilian ships either, for there were thousands of defence units in orbit. There were scores of minefields and patrolling squadrons of strike craft, clunky boats of the System Defence Force, brutal Defence Monitors and deadly orbital gun platforms that eternally gazed out into the stars. Greatest of all were a dozen drifting Starforts, each a bastion of power and might standing vigil among the stars. One of these was set aside for the exclusive use of the Inquisition and it sat alone in its own vector, not because of any law or decree but simply because no pilot wished to pass under the gaze of those who considered themselves the Left Hand of the Emperor.

Angle's Redoubt was a world of productive industry and busy labour, a lynchpin of Imperial power, both for its manufacturing capacity and its crucial strategic position on the Warp Routes. The local nobility even dared to harbour delusions of the planet rising to such prominence that they might one day eclipse the Sector Capital of Tectum. A farcical dream for there was no way the Sector Lords would let any lesser pretender steal their status.

This was the typical state of affairs for the Hive World, yet today everything had changed.

Today the swarms of shuttles rising from Angle's Redoubt were not filled with manufactured goods but crowds of fearful and desperate people, fleeing their world before the horror could engulf them. Word had come that the Great Devourer was on its way and terror had swept the Hive Cities. The richest aristocrats had fled to their private lighters and orbital yachts, paying exorbitantly for passage on any Warp capable ship that would take them. Those slightly less well connected had resorted to bribing their way onto shuttles and cargo lifters, forsaking all that they had for a chance to flee before the nightmare came. As for the common folk, they were left to rot by their betters, abandoned and uncared for by those they had served for generations.

Fear and panic soon swept over the abandoned masses, riots and looting breaking out everywhere to overwhelm the local constables and even the Adeptus Arbites. Within six hours of the news breaking the Planetary Governor had been forced to declare martial law, deploying the Imperial Guard and the PDF onto the streets to restore order. Yet even now there were those who did not flee, some whose ignorance or greed told them that the situation was not all that dire, that there would be a time for rebuilding after the crisis had passed and life would continue. These people immediately began hoarding everything they could, stockpiling food and resources on the gamble that they might yet live.

The whole situation was a powder keg, one that could explode at any moment and there was no telling what might set it off. Amid all this calamity it was hardly surprising that a small, inert object would slip the orbital net. A tiny little spore that was drifting serenely through the jostling orbital lanes, completely unobserved and unnoticed. It was a fleshy ovoid, covered in blisters and lumps with trailing tendrils floating behind it: a Mycetic Spore. The lone spore drifted right past the guns of the orbital platforms and straight through the clouds of minefields, all of the world's guardians were expecting an avalanche of Bio-ships and so they missed the tiny little spore.

The spore floated downwards, unobserved and unchallenged, bypassing all the defences meant to protect against this very threat. Soon it brushed the atmosphere and lit up as it began to decelerate, ablative layers of fleshy matter burning off like an organic heat shield. Now at last the spore drew notice, its fiery re-entry tripping the Auspex in a remote monitoring station, located in the wastelands between cities. A servitor awoke and began intoning warnings in a monotone chant, but sadly the man assigned to that watch was absent, frantically trying to reach his family on the public vox and the warning went unheeded.

The Spore was no more intelligent than a plant and yet as it descended it instinctively avoided the ashen wastelands, the polluted and poisoned wilderness utterly useless to it. Instead it turned towards the largest Hive City, attracted to the concentrated Biomass as a plant is to the warmth of the sun. Its fleshy tendrils began to billow out behind it, spreading large membranes to act as a crude parachute. The spore was far too small to trigger the city's air defences or the Void shield so it descended unopposed. It was almost serene in its graceful fall, yet its landing was anything but serene. The spore hit the ground in the outer slums, demolishing a derelict hab block that was now home only to blissful Obscura addicts and burnt out Slaught junkies. The walls imploded under the force of the impact and the interior was gutted, leaving a hollow shell of a building, around a demolished centre.

The destruction was utterly unnoticed by the Hive's great and good, who wouldn't have cared if they had seen it. Peace fell as the dust rained down on the shattered rubble, the quiet broken only by the occasional falling brick and the distant rumble of uncaring traffic. The peace didn't last for long though, for slowly the rubble began to shift, piles of debris moving as something began to force its way up out of the depths.

Suddenly a single elongated claw burst up out of the ground, reaching for the air like a pine tree stretching for the light. It was followed by another and then a pair of clawed hands, that fought to clear a path for the body that followed it. Slowly a creature emerged from the site of the Mycetic spore's impact, a strange being that walked on backwards jointed legs and had large claws overarching its shoulders. Its head was a mass of sensory blisters, with enlarged scent organs and it had a frond of tendrils where its mouth should have been.

It was a Lictor, a Tyranid scout organism, sent ahead to blaze a trail for the coming of the Hive fleet.

Though only a few minutes old the Lictor immediately shifted its chameleonic skin to suit its surroundings, instinctively blending in to avoid predators. Inside its head was nothing that could be considered intelligence, yet there was instinct, focussed and honed to create the perfect predator. The Lictor squatted amid the ruins as it took in its surroundings, scenting the air and feeling for vibrations. Inhuman sensory organs scoured the surrounding space, making the Lictor totally aware of its environment in a way no mere human could comprehend. It sat for long minutes, merely feeling the movements of the wind and the vibration of distant traffic, but then it felt an intrusion. Passing along the ground was the faintest rhythmic vibration, a growing hammer beat that announced the footsteps of prey, heading this way.

Instinctively the Lictor moved, shimmering in the dark cavity like oil on water as it squeezed itself into a tiny hiding space. The Lictor virtually disappeared as a group of new animals intruded into the smashed building, moving in a loose pack with weapons held slackly in their grips. The Lictor had no words to describe an underhive gang of juvies, but it instinctively recognised a pack when it saw one, drawn to the collapsed building to look for salvage.

The prey stumbled into the ruin without hesitation, more concerned with rival gangs beating them to the prize, than worried about predators. The beasts seemed half-blind in the dank interior, flashing thick lumen beams about as they entered. The Lictor watched them spread out among the broken remnants of rooms, shuffling debris aside and turning over crushed bodies in the hope of finding unused narcotics or currency. The Lictor was utterly still and silent as the prey walked about, passing by its hiding place without even the slightest hint that they were aware of its presence.

One of the prey broke off, looking to mark its territory by urinating loudly in a corner. Silently and without moving a single stone the Lictor emerged, creeping up behind the animal without it being the slightest bit aware. In one bound the Lictor pounced on the beast, its claws plunging into its chest before it could scream and ending its life. The Lictor instinctively dragged the prey away, taking the bleeding body with it as it retreated. Without being able to say why it headed upwards, pulling the corpse along until it was poised over a large cavity in the centre of the building. The Lictor took the corpse and hung it by its heels from a broken beam, leaving it to dangle in the hole. Driven by an undeniable instinct the Lictor settled down to wait and sure enough after a few minutes a female stumbled upon the dangling corpse.

The female did not scream or panic at the sight, but reacted by lifting two laspistols and setting off a blaze of fire that riddled the corpse and sent it spinning. The noise attracted the other prey and they came running, guns held tight with fingers on triggers. The crowd gathered to inspect the corpse and they made mewling sounds as they realised it was one of their own. The air filled with the musk of fear as their sweat glands released pheromones and their hearts thundered in their chests.

The Lictor however was already moving, crawling above their heads, completely unnoticed as they fearfully swept about with their guns. The prey looked all around the space, into every nook and cranny, but none of them thought to look upwards. The Lictor waited until they were all facing outwards and then it let go, dropping silently into their midst with claws outstretched. The first two died before they even knew it was there, falling headless to the ground as it silently landed on its back-jointed legs. The next few seconds were a confusing jumble of light and noise as the prey panicked, firing in every direction save at the creature in their midst. The Lictor in return scythed them apart, taking them down with great slashes and tears of its claws, its every move saw a beast fall and not one of them landed a blow in return. In five seconds the Lictor had slaughtered every single one of its prey, leaving a stinking abattoir in its wake, grizzly silence fell but the Lictor wasn't done yet.

One of the prey still was still breathing, mumbling to itself as it fumbled at an icon on a chain around its neck. The Lictor closed in and the prey screamed, but it could not stop the Predator from opening its mouth tendrils wide and engulfing its head. In one swift move, the Lictor snipped off the top of the skull and swallowed the brains within.

The Lictor sat back and went still as an internal process began, one that was remarkably similar to that used by the Astartes, not that the Tyranid could have comprehended such a thing. Memories were sorted and ingested at a rapid pace as the Lictor looked for the information it needed. Thoughts of a plump mate and mewling offspring were discarded, religious doggerel passed by without the slightest hint of understanding, but then it found what it needed.

In a nearby location a prominent leader-beast made routine pauses, enforcing its position as Alpha with chanting and long sermons given to the beta and omega animals. Such a leader-beast would inevitably return to the greatest concentrations of Biomass, the very heart of the defences, right where the Tyranids needed to go.

Silently and without a thought for the dead beasts, the Lictor moved out, it was on the hunt and nothing would stand between it and its prey.


	10. Chapter 10

**Fame Cimex Chapter 10**

On the edge of the Angle's Redoubt stellar system there was movement, a convoy of warships sailing ever deeper into the gravity well, seeking the distant light of the sun. They were battered and scarred veterans, each one scored by wounds in their armour and their guns were blackened by repeated discharges. These were the ships of the Storm Heralds and they had just limped back to Imperial space, running merely a few weeks ahead of the Tyranid advance.

At the heart of the formation cruised the twin battlebarges, Thunderlord and Light of Terra, still proud and defiant despite all that had occurred, but that could not hide the fact that their magazines stood empty and their reactors were fatigued from the arduous journey. With them came seven Strike Cruisers, in various states of disrepair and exhaustion, their engines sputtering and their reactors trembling from the hard fighting they had seen. Surrounding the capital ships were over thirty escorts, many of which were in an even worse state of repair. This was the bulk of the Storm Herald's fleet and it represented almost the entirety of its fighting strength, save for a handful of ships stuck in refit.

As the fleet passed inwards it was observed by monitoring stations and listening posts that sent demands for clearance codes and passwords, not just once but over and over. Each time the response codes were checked, rechecked and queried with superiors, but everything was in proper order and the guardians of the system were obliged to begrudgingly authorise the Space Marines to pass.

The fleet pressed onwards and passed the fifth and outermost planet of the stellar system, a green gas giant that was surrounded by cloud-scoop harvesting stations. Even with the threat of the Tyranids looming the workers carried on, desperately extracting every last drop they could before the war swept over them. The fleet left them behind as it passed onwards, heading deeper and deeper into the star's gravity well, the fourth planet was currently orbiting on the far side of the system but the fleet's course took it into range of the third planet. This was a burning, volcanic world, barely habitable and only useful for the long chains of geothermal mineral plants that drew wealth from its violate core.

The fleet once more passed onwards, intent on its goal and brooking no delay. At long last they approached their goal, the second planet of the system which was the mighty Hive World itself, with its orbital docks and repair yards being a most welcome sight after so perilous a journey. Here at last the fleet slowed, coming to rest in high orbit as their drives settled down and wounded ships paused to rest their exhausted reactors.

The fleet began sending missives for docking permission along with requests for resupply and repair crews, but these were rebuffed, the docks citing prior demands from the Imperial Navy that took precedence. The Space Marines then sent outraged demands for provisions, citing the authority of the Adeptus Astartes, but these were regretfully declined pending Inquisitorial review. So the fleet and the docks sat there, staring at each other as messages spat back and forth.

As this was occurring Captain Toran was briskly marching along the spine of the Thunderlord, his pace just a hair below that of an outright run. He tried not to look hurried but his hearts were anxious and he furiously clung onto a data-slate in his hand, one that carried vital information. Toran proceeded along the ship's spine until he approached an observation dome, one that was currently giving a magnificent view of Angle's Redoubt and the shoals of orbital facilities that were standing in the Astartes' way.

Toran burst into the observation bay and found a meeting already underway, three beings standing in the starlight and discussing matters of great import. The first of them was Chapter Master Gorgall, looking leaner and paler than ever. The journey had worn heavily on the old warrior and now it looked like his armour was the only thing holding him up.

The second figure was Ninth Captain Phalros, his stern senatorial gaze hiding a current of anger. The third being was twice as large as anyone else and walked in a massive armoured chassis, fitted with an assault cannon and a massive power fist. It was Ajax and somehow, without anybody language at all, the Contemptor Dreadnought was managing to look absolutely furious.

Gorgall was speaking, his head tilted right back to peer upwards at the Dreadnought, as he said, "I assure you, Honourable Brother, that the situation is in hand. There is no need for you to get involved; I give you my word that I shall put a stop to the Emperor-Worship."

Ajax rumbled, "SEE THAT YOU DO OR I SHALL DO IT FOR YOU. I WILL NOT SUFFER THIS CHAPTER TO ENGAGE IN SUCH AN OBSCENITY, IT SPITS UPON EVERYTHING THE EMPEROR STOOD FOR."

Phalros spoke up saying, "Venerable brother, please be patient, this situation calls for cool heads, not rash tempers. None of us, not even the most misguided of brothers, wants to be known as a kin-slayer."

Ajax stared at them and growled, "DEAL WITH THIS SOON, MY PATIENCE GROWS THIN." Then he turned and stomped out of the dome, passing Toran without a word as he barged past. Toran watched the Contemptor disappear and swallowed before saying, "What was that?"

Gorgall answered, "The Honourable brother was expressing his concerns about the direction this Chapter is taking."

Phalros muttered, "An angry Dreadnought, that's the last thing this powder keg needs."

Toran blinked then remembered the data-slate in his hand and said, "My lord I have to make a report."

Gorgall held up a hand and said, "First things first, I need my new Master of the Arsenal to tell me how Third Company is shaping up."

Toran was put back and said, "They fare well, some initial choler was evident but the squads soon stopped butting heads once we put them into hard drills. Chaplain Wrethan is being his usual self; he's driving the initiates as hard as he did the Scout-Novices."

"He is one of Lessall's men so keep an eye on him," said Gorgall, "I want Third Company to be a beacon of secular excellence."

Toran frowned, for that sounded uncomfortably close to the suggestion Gorgall was using him as a political pawn. He changed the subject by saying, "My Lord, I have information about the issue with the orbital docks."

Phalros raised an eyebrow and said, "We have teams of protocol serfs and equerries working on this problem, how did you acquire more intelligence than all of them?"

Toran raised his data slate and said, "I have a high ranking contact within the Navy itself, he's discretely sent me a report on the state of affairs. This is no bureaucratic tangle or mislaid order; we are being deliberately obstructed by the Imperial Navy."

"They wouldn't dare!" spat Phalros.

Toran replied, "They would if the order came from Lord Admiral Dousmanis himself, the supreme commander of all naval assets in Battlefleet Karyl is here and he's determined to stand in our way."

Gorgall frowned, "Lord Admiral Dousmanis is no fool, he wouldn't be making more enemies with the Tyranids breathing down his neck… this stinks of politics. Someone has leveraged him into doing this."

Toran consulted his data-slate and said, "Ah, yes there was something about that, my contact highlighted a reference I didn't understand. Yes, yes here it is… there are two men backing Dousmanis' actions, a Cardinal Giovanni and a Lord Inquisitor Zerban."

Gorgall spat, "Of course… who else would it be? Those two have been nothing but trouble for decades. They see our proselytising as the perfect excuse to crush the autonomy of the Astartes. Zerban in particular is a fanatic, he won't be satisfied until the Storm Heralds are declared Excommunicate Traitoris."

This was entirely new information to Toran and he wondered what else he hadn't been told about the Chapter's relations with the wider Imperium. He said cautiously, "The Ecclesiarchy is a nuisance, yet they have no remit to stop us. But the Inquisition is another problem entirely, they can block us at every turn."

Phalros growled, "This is intolerable, the Tyranids are at the gates and the lords of the Imperium see it as an opportunity to play politics. Lessall is going to love this."

Gorgall said, "Perhaps it is time we see our rivals, bring up the Hololith."

From an alcove a withered Servitor droned "Compliance," as an image of near space coalesced above their heads. Toran looked into the image and consulted his data slate then said, "Magnify grid, 38-25-01." The servitor droned "Compliance" as the image zoomed in on a cluster of bright dots to reveal a formation of bulky warships, with thick prows and massive gun batteries.

Phalros snorted and said, "Look all around them, those gaggles of fleet tenders and resupply shuttles. They are fattening up the Navy's ships while our magazines sit empty and our reactors cry for the blessings of the Tech-Priests."

Gorgall asked, "Toran, did your contact send us a fleet manifest?"

Toran checked and said "Yes, Lord Admiral Dousmanis has raised his flag on that Battleship, that is the Hyperion, an Oberon class ship-killer. And see that Battlecruiser hanging over her starboard bow, that is the Agamemnon, a Mars Class carrier commanded by Rear-Admiral Dousmanis."

Gorgall raised an eyebrow and said, "Related?"

Toran answered, "Yes Rear-Admiral Dousmanis is Lord Admiral Dousmanis' nephew by blood."

Phalros snorted and said, "Imperial nepotism at its best."

Gorgall shook his head and said, "What else are we facing?"

Toran looked at the manifest and said, "They have three ships of the line, a Dictator class, the Aetos. A Dominator class, the Kilkis and a Lunar class, the Averof. There are two Dauntless class light cruisers, the Spetsai and the Cadmus along with three distinct formations of escort frigates, Proteus, Triton and Pandora Squadrons. And… oh now, this is an odd one, there is a Vengeance class Grandcruiser, the Hektor."

Phalros actually blinked at that last one and said, "A Grandcruiser, I didn't think any of those were still in service with Battlefleet Karyl. They must really be pulling out all the stops for this one."

Gorgall rubbed his chin and said, "A sizeable taskforce, more than our ships could handle in our currently depleted state. But if they think this is enough to stop the Tyranid Hive fleet, then they are delusional."

Phalros said grimly, "They underestimate the scale of the threat, surely the generals and the Lords Militant must see this is not the time for political infighting."

Gorgall shook his head and said, "Giovanni and Zerban will have filled their ears with slander about us, they excel at slithering behind closed doors and manipulating events from the shadows. As long as those two are involved, the Imperium will be fighting with one hand tied behind its back. By the time they realise that they need us, it will be too late."

Toran said, "Then call them out, make them meet you in a public forum where they will lose the cover of the shadows. Take the ground out from under them and force them to fight in an arena of your own choosing."

Gorgall was silent for a long moment then declared, "It seems we have no other choice, as a Chapter Master I can call a strategic conference of all the Lords Militant in the theatre, even a Cardinal and a Lord Inquisitor cannot block that. We three will shuttle over and confront them head-on, Emperor willing we can turn enough Lord Militants to our side to break their stranglehold."

Gorgall finished by saying, "Understand this, if we cannot make them see that we have to stand as one then all is lost, either the Imperium unites, here and now or it will fall."


	11. Chapter 11

**Fame Cimex Chapter 11**

Aboard one of the starforts around Angle's Redoubt, a meeting was taking place, a gathering of the most powerful individuals in the systems. The call had gone out for the Lords Militant to assemble, but the local leaders of the Imperial Departmentos had been unwilling to let such an important event go unobserved. There were Generals, Admirals and Flag officers aplenty, along with Munitorium Generals, Mechanicus Magi, the head of the Astropathic order, emissaries of the Navigators, the Arbites, the Merchant Guilds the Chartist Captains and even the planetary governor himself.

All the great and the good of the Imperial institutions were gathered in one arena, so naturally it had immediately descended into a raging argument. Adepts of various orders and ranks were shouting loudly, waving and talking over each other, nobody was really listening for nobody really cared what anyone else had to say. In the centre of the room, on a large stage set in the middle of the ascending rows of seats a man in a Naval uniform was attempting to instil order but he was having no success whatsoever.

Into that bedlam strode three Space Marines, all giants in their shining blue armour and bedecked with glorious golden embellishments, it was Chapter Master Gorgall, Captain Phalros and Captain Toran. They strode into the room with heads held high to show their detractors that they remained proud and unconcerned by the whispers behind their backs. Their sudden appearance made silence fall, every eye being drawn to the Transhuman giants and amongst those who had never witnessed Astartes in person before, mouths fell agape and bowels tightened in fear.

It was an impressive entrance, the sheer size and power of the Space Marines upsetting many of the Adepts and knocking their carefully constructed schemes from their minds. The trio surveyed the room, taking in the sheer variety of men and women sitting on the ascending tiers of seats, while their minds automatically calculated the best cover and firing positions with casual ease.

Toran's vox bead tickled and a sub-vocal transmission came in from Phalros as he whispered, "Dammit we've been outmanoeuvred already, we were hoping for a closed strategy session with military minds who would grasp the situation, but they've summoned everyone. Dousmanis is going to turn this into an absolute circus."

Toran's eye sought out the Lord Admiral himself, the man was stood on the stage before them in a gold frogged navy uniform with a stiff-necked collar. He had a stern visage, subtly augmented by the tell-tale signs of frequent Juvenat treatments and he appeared to be looking down his hooked nose at the world. Dousmanis saw the Astartes' entrance and scowled, yet this was not born of anger but rather anxiety, his skin was clammy and his rapid heartbeat thundered in the Astartes' ears. To Toran's enhanced eyesight, the Lord Admiral looked like a man caught between a raging forest fire and a bottomless plunge off a cliff.

To his credit Dousmanis recovered quickly and blustered, "Storm Heralds... we did not expect you so soon."

Gorgall mounted the stage and his Captains followed him, the Chapter Master's gaze swept the room, making many men cringe before he settled his sights on the Lord Admiral and said, "I find that doubtful, seeing as how I was the one who called this strategy session."

Dousmanis had grit enough to fake serenity and said, "A presumptuous act on your part, the Imperium has yet to decide whether your presence is necessary or desirable in this theatre of war." The words sounded disdainful and offensive and yet there was a certain tone and hesitation to them, it was indiscernible to mortal hearing but to Toran's ear, Dousmanis sounded more like an actor repeating the lines given to him than a man speaking from the heart.

Gorgall wasn't about to be outdone though, he stepped forward and said to the whole room, "Are there any among you who doubt that the threat is real? The Tyranids come and this world stands imperilled, war is upon us and none can shirk from this fight."

Yet a melodious voice rang out from the crowd, "It is not the Xenos that concern us, it is you!"

The speaker rose to his feet and descended to the stage, he was a rotund man in thick creamy robes of office, decorated with Aquila's and holy icons. He carried a crook and sceptre and bore a forked mitre on his head, Toran instantly realized that this must be the infamous Cardinal Giovanni. Toran had met many potentates of Imperial might in his time and generally found stereotypes of them being fat, venal and inbred to be somewhat unfair, but Giovanni seemed determined to fit the mould in every way.

He waddled as he walked and his swollen fingers were bedecked with priceless rings, his many chins hung low under his jaw and he perspired slightly from the labour of climbing the stairs to the stage. The Cardinal was accompanied by a pair of Sisters of Battle in full plate armour, with helms on and loaded bolters in their hands. They seemed relentless and vigilant guardians for so mighty a lord, but Toran was totally familiar with the language of an armoured body and he could tell from the tightness of the Sister's grips on their weapons that they despised their Lord and Master.

Giovanni approached the waiting dignitaries and Dousmanis stepped aside without looking at him, the way his gaze avoided his compatriot announcing how little he thought of his ally. The Cardinal paused and then said, "There is no place in the Imperial fold for Heretics."

Gorgall practically growled as he responded, "A dangerous accusation to make, Priest!" The difference between their voices was shocking, the Cardinal, for all his flaws, was accustomed to speaking to a crowd and his voice was resonant and enticing. Gorgall on the other hand snarled like an inhuman monster, his voice gratingly harsh and making many Adepts wince at the dangerous tone. Toran realised that this was their opponent's intent; they were turning the whole room against the Space Marines.

Giovanni spoke again saying, "Your litany of blasphemies is long and damning, the preaching and sermonising to the masses is a gross insult to the God-Emperor. You speak of matters you have no business addressing, the faith of the Imperium is entrusted to the Ecclesiarchy, not the Space Marines."

Lord Admiral Dousmanis spoke up saying, "The Imperium was founded upon the division of its sacred jurisdictions: we sail, they preach, you fight. That is the order of things."

That statement brought many nodding heads from the crowd and Toran realised that his Chapter Master was being manoeuvred into a difficult position; defend a practice he himself despised or admit that his Chapter had strayed into Heresy. Gorgall was not fool enough to fall into such an obvious trap and addressed the crowd directly to say, "The Tyranids are at our door and the Hive Mind cares not for our petty differences. If we do not set aside our squabbles then we will become nought but food to sate its hunger!"

That statement sent rustles through the crowds, the civil adepts turning pale and queasy while the militarily inclined nodded in agreement. Those in the crowd who had faced the Hive Fleets before knew all too well the scale of the peril.

From the crowd a voice came, "He speaks the truth!" From among the red-clad Magi, rose a boxy and square being, one that floated over the heads of its compatriots in a long trailing robe. Toran almost smiled at the sight, his call for allies had not gone unheeded. He knew this Tech-Priest and they were old allies, more importantly he had enough dirt on her to guarantee that she would take the Storm Herald's side.

In a surprisingly feminine voice, the Tech-Priest said, "I am Magos Castabore, envoy from the Forge-Synod of Crux Lapis, and I say the mathematics of war are irrefutable. To stand alone is an unbalanced equation, we must alloy our strength!" The Tech-Priest's declaration set whispers flying, the Mechanicus was the single most powerful imperial institution and their support would swing many others to the Storm Herald's side.

Castabore followed this up by declaring "The Mechanicus Forges of this system will extend their labour to refit the Astartes' fleet and resupply their stores." It was a most generous offer and Gorgall capitalised on this to declare, "Now is the hour, we must all unite or we will fall!"

The room was filled with a susurration of whispers and for a second Toran dared to believe that they had swung the argument, but his hopes were dashed as a new player entered the stage. A deep, booming voice cried out, "And under whose leadership would we fight, that of Terra… or yours?!"

From the shadows behind the stage rose a man, a man in matt black power armour that hummed as he moved and with a long Black cloak that billowed behind him. His armour was superficially similar to that worn by the Astartes but it was scaled to a mortal's frame and lacking a Black Carapace implant his movements were stiff and jerky. Still he exuded an aura of threatening menace well beyond his size, this was emphasised by his bald, scarred head and sneering expression. Yet the most ominous thing about him was the Inquisitorial rosette on his breast: the mark of the Ordo Hereticus.

Toran realised that this must be Inquisitor Zerban, the architect of this entire farce and as he took his place the Lord Admiral and the Cardinal averted their gazes, not willing to look right at him. Toran saw that both of them were but Zerban's puppets, through bribery or corruption or extortion the inquisitor owned these men and they were nothing but mouthpieces for his will.

Zerban looked across the stage at the Space Marines and the hatred in his gaze was all-consuming as he spat, "You think us blind, but we see more than you know. We are well aware of your schemes to break with the rule of the High Lords, to set yourselves above the Emperor's rule!"

This sent flurries of whispers around the hall and Gorgall glared at the Inquisitor as he said, "I deny such claims, the Astartes exist to serve the Emperor's will."

Zerban didn't flinch as he said, "And yet you set yourselves up as the messengers of his Divinity, you think to spread his word to the masses!"

Gorgall spat, "You put words in my mouth, the Storm Heralds do not claim to know His divine word."

Zerban smiled widely and too late Toran saw the trap Gorgall had walked into as the inquisitor said, "Then let us consult Him directly."

Cardinal Giovanni raised his gaze to the heavens and pressed his hands together piously as he proclaimed, "He on Terra smiles upon us and the Xeno hordes shall be swept before his fiery gaze. The majestic Imperial Navy shall sail forth to meet the enemy head-on and they shall be the divine thunderbolt that breaks them asunder. Thus prophesizes the God-Emperor!"

The prophecy was pure theatre, meant more for the audience than anyone else and probably had been written word for word by Zerban. The audience however lapped it up, joyously cheering the speech with thunderous applause. Only the Lords Militant looked less than rapturous, knowing all too well that any battle against the Hive Mind would be far from easy. Lord Admiral Dousmanis in particular looked fit to burst as his face went red, having just been committed to send his fleet head-on at the Tyranid menace. He was about to protest but a glare from Zerban made him shut his mouth, whatever dirt the Inquisitor had on him must be truly damning.

Chapter Master Gorgall however was left in an impossible position, either to yield and allow the Navy to charge off without the Space Marines or speak up and appear to defy the will of the Emperor, something that would confirm every accusation against his Chapter. Toran didn't know which path his lord would choose, but then Gorgall seemed to decide discretion was the better part of valour and spun on his heel to march off in shameful defeat.

With the cheering of the crowds ringing in their ears the Captains followed him out and Toran heard Phalros mutter, "Bloody fools, they've just killed us all."


	12. Chapter 12

**Fame Cimex Chapter 12**

In the dank and mouldy streets of the city people scurried fearfully to and fro, the panicked masses trying to go about their lives under the watchful eyes of soldiers. Martial law was in effect and the populace was forced live under the barrels of guns, it was either that or descend into anarchy. It was in that atmosphere of fear and desperation that the Lictor moved, its progress was silent and unobserved as it slithered across rooftops and around chimneys. Its skin changing like a Chameleon's, constantly adapting to the surroundings and rendering it almost invisible. The scout organism had been specially adapted by the Hive Mind for infiltration and merely human senses were practically blind and deaf to its passage.

The Lictor's mind held no trace of intelligence, the mental capacity for abstract thought being unnecessary and so had not been built in. Yet at the back of its mind was the slightest whisper of the Hive Mind, a distinct voice compelling it to undertake certain actions it had no way of understanding. The voice was faint and muffled, currently able to only implant urges and compulsions, but it was growing ever stronger as the Hive Fleet closed upon this world. Right now the Lictor was being driven by an urge to find a specific Leader-beast, one who could lead the Tyranid horde to the heart of the prey's lair. The Tyranid infiltrator began making its way deeper into the city, moving from roof top to rooftop as it leapt gaps with great bounds of its coiled legs. Its progress was swift and silent, undetected by the prey that wandered the streets below like mewling cattle.

The Lictor silently climbed a rickety drain pipe and slithered across a roof top, but went still when it saw a pair of guard beasts were standing the far corner. The animals were holding their weapons slackly as they passed a smoking weed between them, a poor attempt to conceal their scent markers with noxious vapours. Despite that the Lictor could still smell their sweaty tang, it could smell that their muscles were turning to fat and the taint of the cancers growing in their lungs from prolonged exposure to the weed.

Silently the Lictor approached them from behind, keeping low to the ground and sliding from side to side like a snake. The guards stood completely unaware, making bleating noises as the Lictor slipped ever closer. Then it rose from the ground and in one swift jerk drove its claws into their backs. The guards gasped as huge razors erupted from their chests, then they fell limp and slack. Moving on instinct the Lictor lowered the bodies gently and laid them out, leaving them where they would be found. The rumours and panic that would spread from the discovery would fill the city with fear, weakening the defences for the coming of the Hive fleet.

The Lictor pressed onwards, leaving its kills behind as it began to make its way upwards, climbing up ever taller buildings as it approached the main spire itself. Suddenly it came to the end of the buildings, a wide plaza separating the lower slums from the dwellings of the more prosperous denizens of the city. The Lictor had no understanding of social hierarchies or the seething hate that existed between the rich and the poor. All it knew was that open ground represented a danger, the chances of being discovered were too great to risk. The Lictor paused here, waiting and observing everything as the city went about its business. A human would swiftly have grown bored or frustrated, driven to make a mistake by impatience, but the predator had not been built to grasp such notions. It would wait as long as it had to, until a path revealed itself.

As night fell and darkness covered the city the Lictor saw a stream of lights passing over its head and a possibility presented itself. Running nearby was a skyway bearing heavy goods vehicles and passenger transports, it rose from the ground on immense pillars and ascended ever higher until it meet the great spire itself. Swiftly the Lictor moved out, passing over the prey beasts who were going about their lives in ignorance. When it reached one of the Ferrocrete pillars the Lictor didn't pause, scaling the vertical surface as effortlessly as if it were flat. The Lictor climbed the pillar right to the top and then ventured out onto the underneath of the skyway like a spider on a roof.

This whole space was a gap in the citys' defence, nobody thinking to look underneath a skyway for intruders. Here at last the Lictor made swift progress, skittering along upside down, claws penetrating the ferrocrete surface for purchase as it felt the rumble of passing vehicles vibrate through its body. Following the compulsions of the Hive Mind the Lictor made its way into the heart of the city, looking for something it could not have possibly described until it saw it. Then abruptly it paused, there it was, there was the target it had been driven to find.

Just off from the skyway was a large nest, a towering construction of stone and steel that loomed over the surrounding district like a man made mountain. It resembled a Hymenoptera nest in many ways, but like certain species of flora it had been covered in shiny materials to attract prey into its entrances. This must have been a nerve centre of the prey's greater dwelling for it was surrounded in sonic baffles, great vox horns that blared rhythmic chants over and over to confuse the echolocation of passing predators. Before the largest entrance a pair of half-mechanical, half-dead things flittered overhead on tiny wings, waving orbs of noxious vapours to confuse scent trails.

Such defences may have confused lesser predators but the Lictor was not distracted at all, it shifted its sensory perception into ranges beyond the prey's capabilities and inspected the target. The gap between the skyway and the building was beyond any prey's ability to cross, nothing less than one of their warrior-drones with a jump pack could have cleared that distance. The Lictor however was not deterred, it slithered to the nearest point and moved to the side of the skyway, clinging on like a burr. It tensed itself for the leap, power gathering in its spring like legs and then in one mighty bound it jumped.

The Lictor sailed free and clear, utterly exposed as it flew through the air at the target, then with a crash of dismounted stonework it hit the sloping roof of the building. Slate tiles skittered free and for a second the Lictor scrambled to find purchase, but then it snagged a stone gargoyle and pulled itself up.

The Lictor dove into cover, wary that the noise of its landing may have alerted the prey, but after a few minutes nothing emerged to investigate and the scene remained silent. The Lictor skittered out of cover and moved across the roof; entrance was effortlessly achieved as it cracked apart a transparent membrane and made its way inside the nest. The interior of the nest was covered in shiny materials and fabric hangings, but the layout resembled a network of tunnels. The Lictor kept to the deserted passages, its senses enabling it to detect the vibrations of passing feet long before any guard could spy it.

The Lictor smelt the spoor of many animals coming from the centre of the nest and headed in that direction, passing turnings and junctions with all the confidence of one who had spent their whole life here. Soon the predator found itself on a railed balcony overlooking a vast space, a cavernous opening with thick columns rising to the roof and row upon row of wooden pews. The roof was covered in complicated designs and there were long, transparent membranes set into the walls.

The ground was filled to the brim with a herd of prey, packed in so tightly that many were sitting upon the floor for lack of space. They were all silent as they listened to the bleatings of another beast, one raised above them on a large wooden pedestal. It was a well fed animal, with rolls of fat and a large forked crest upon its head, a sign of dominance among prey beasts. The beast was making some form of dominance display, barking repeatedly at the herd in an amplified voice from its elevated position. The lesser animals must have accepted their place as Betas and Omegas for they hung their heads and repeated the noises. In a flash the Lictor saw that this must be the very leader-beast it had sought out, the one who could lead the Tyranids into the heart of the prey's defences.

Immediately the Lictor climbed from the railing and from there onto the roof, its chameleonic skin shifting to match the patterns beneath as it slithered nearer. The Leader-beast seemed unaware of its presence as it slowly stalked closer, aiming to find a spot right over the target's head. The Lictor's would drop from above and ensnare its prey, not killing it but spraying it with special markers. That it would not survive the inevitable reprisal was not a factor, for the voice of the Hive Mind demanded that the Leader-beast must be marked with a pheromone tracer, one that the following waves of Tyranids could follow anywhere.

The Lictor was an expert infiltrator and supremely stealthy, designed to sneak past any defence. Yet the Tyranids could not have anticipated the complicated patterns it was moving over and its Chameleonic skin struggled to adapt to the bizarre designs. Suddenly a scream arose from the herd and a shrieking youth pointed upwards, right at the Lictor's location.

Before anyone could react the Lictor was already in motion, leaping earthwards to land amidst the herd. It fell well short of the Leader-beast but its claws and scything talons were already in motion, lashing out to rip and gouge animals apart. Instant panic swept the herd, prey screaming and running away from the nightmarish predator in their midst. The Lictor ignored the prey and it waded forward, carving a path through the herd, even as they fought to get out of its way. The Leader-beast was retreating in cowering terror but the Lictor pressed onward, moving faster than the fat beast could run. All the Tyranid needed was to get in range and its purpose would be fulfilled, its survival was irrelevant compared to that.

The Lictor increased its pace for the Leader-beast was almost in range but then another force came into play. From alcoves around the cavern a wave of guard animals emerged, charging forward with shrieks emanating from vox hailers. The Lictor paused for this was unfamiliar, the guard animals wore the carapaces of the prey's warrior-drones but their scents were distinctly female.

The moment's delay almost cost it dear, for the guard animal's weapons were as deadly as any warrior-drones', firing fat projectiles in a hail of destruction. The bolts carved into the herd and blew animals apart, the prey inadvertently protecting the Lictor with their heaving bulk. The air filled with blood but the Lictor was already in motion, leaping to land on a wall. Instantly it ran over the surface as bolts chased it, blowing craters into the stone and even shattering a transparent membrane to let cold air inside.

The Lictor glanced up and saw the Leader-beast being hurried away by its guards, escaping into a dark alcove. The Tyranid organism had no understanding of frustration, but it recognised that the chances of completing its task had fallen to nil. Yet still the Hive Mind demanded that it needed to complete its purpose, to complete the task before it could be allowed to die. With bolts still chasing it the Lictor scuttled over to the smashed membrane and pulled itself into the darkness outside, then it dove to the ground. With screams and cries still ringing out the Lictor scuttled away into the darkness, leaving carnage behind it.

The Lictor had no understanding of failure or defeat, patience was built into it and it would just have to try again. The Leader-beast was imprinted in its mind now and it would find the quarry once more. There was nowhere the animal could go where the hunter would not find it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Fame Cimex Chapter 13**

Through the darkness of space stars moved, a line of blazing plasma exhausts denoting the passage of many ships. These were titanic, slab-sided monoliths, the immense armoured wedge prows and lines of gun batteries proclaiming them to be the mighty Imperial Navy. There were a half-dozen capital ships, surrounding the immense bulk of an ancient Battleship that sat in the heart of the formation like a grown Mastodon surrounded by calves. Around the perimeter of the fleet swarms of strike craft flew alert patrols and escort squadrons pushed the limits of their drives, each eager to be the first to sight the Xeno enemy. The fleet was advancing boldly into the outer darkness of the Stellar system, seeking to engage the Tyranids directly. The wisdom of such a course was neither here nor there, they had their orders and that was the end of it.

In the midst of the formation a humble cruiser was powering forward, her weapons primed for battle and her auspex arrays sweeping constantly for threats. Her name was the Averof and she was a Lunar class ship of the line, one that had seen millennia of war and still bore most of the scars to prove it. On her bridge officers and servitors went about their business, each man knowing that battle was imminent while overhead choirs were directed by the ship's clergy to chant hymns praising Him on Terra.

On the command dais was the Captain, unusually for a Naval captain he did not wear gold braiding nor badges of rank. A simple white shirt and black trousers sufficed for him, along with a gold sash about his waist and a boarding cutlass that was notched and chipped from repeated use. His name was Georgios Mandas and he was the Captain of the Averof, a position he had earned through a combination of skill, daring and luck as opposed to the more typical route of having the right family connections. Mandas was surveying the bridge and seemed satisfied with the state of affairs, a glance at the main Hololithic display caused a frown though. He drew in a breath and said, "Commander Grenfeld, have the helm reduce plasma drives by three percent, we are drifting out of formation."

From the floor of the bridge the ship's first officer said, "Aye Aye Captain."

Mandas glanced at his first officer, still not quite used to seeing a woman serving in the post, especially not one with a permanent scowl and frosting of grey in her hair. The Imperial Navy was notorious hidebound and patriarchal so it was rare for women to rise high in the ranks, yet Grenfeld seemed to have the fire to break the mould and would rise high if given a chance. Mandas had recognised her talent immediately and promoted her at the first opportunity, but still the old prejudice ran deep and she had faced more than a few challenges since coming aboard. After a few 'accidents' had occurred Grenfeld had carved out a reputation for ruthlessness and ferocity that gave the men pause, the number of incidents had dropped sharply after the first few months. Shipboard rumour even claimed that she slept with a knife under her pillow, Mandas knew that wasn't true: she had told him that it was a loaded Laspisol.

Mandas shook off his reflections and inspected the fleet disposition, finding that he could not fault the deployment plan. The fleet was spread out line abreast and advancing rapidly, using the ferocity and zeal the Navy was famed for. Mandas was proud to be a part of that noble institution, just as he was proud of his ship's ability to take a pounding and give out twice as much in return. Still this situation was far from ideal, the Tyranids were not to be underestimated and yet here they were, racing to meet them. The navy had been forced into this battle by political wrangling, by men who knew nothing of void warfare and surely would be conveniently absent if things were to go wrong.

Mandas sighed loudly and the noise attracted the attention of his Chief Commissar, Kaath-Dousmanis. The commissar wandered over and without asking permission, climbed onto the dais, which would be a gross offence from anyone other than a discipline officer. Kaath-Dousmanis glanced at the captain and said, "Something wrong Georgios?"

The use of his first name irked Mandas, but there was little he could do about it. The Commissar had been appointed to the role, as all discipline officers were, and the Captain was stuck with him. Kaath-Dousmanis was an unimpressive sight, lacking the fire and the will expected of a Commissar, but he was distantly related to the Lord Admiral on his mother's side and in the Imperial Navy that counted for a lot. Mandas knew that Kaath-Dousmanis had only gained his role through his family connections and was almost certainly in line for a cushy desk-job at the Admiralty. Yet for appearance's sake, he had to have spent some time on the front line and so here he was. Surely one day soon he would be sipping wine at some Admiral's ball, trying to impress a noble's daughter with his war story, one that would be a trifle more believable if he actually had a scar to prove it.

Captain Mandas however did not enjoy the patronage of so noble a name, a fact that had been demonstrated to him repeatedly by the boots and fists of the other cadets at the Naval Academy of Tectum. Mandas had learned to fight back, using grit and bravado to carve out a slither of respect; it was a fight he was still waging to this very day. The Captain realised that the Commissar was still waiting for an answer and said, "Just contemplating the battle to come."

Kaath-Dousmanis replied, "Ah yes a glorious day indeed, this triumph will be long remembered in the histories of Battlefleet Karyl."

Mandas replied, "First we have to win it."

Kaath-Dousmanis shrugged, making his ridiculously over ornamented Chainsword sway as he said, "Cardinal Giovanni has prophesied a great victory, surely the God-Emperor smiles upon us."

Mandas bit back his first retort, his opinion of Giovanni was not something to be voiced out loud and instead said, "I would be more confident if we had the Storm Heralds here, their battlebarges would make a real difference."

Kaath-Dousmanis flinched at that, he had experienced an absolutely humiliating encounter with that Chapter once before, but he rallied to say, "We don't need them, we have the Hyperion."

Mandas decided to drop the issue, knowing anything he said to this man would doubtless find its way back to the Lord Admiral's ears. The last thing he wanted anyone to know was that it was he who had sent warnings to the Storm Heralds, that it was he who was Captain Toran's contact. Mandas instead looked at the Hololith and said, "The Hyperion, yes a fine ship with a good history, though I have found the Oberon class to be a bit of a jack of all trades and a master of none."

Kaath-Dousmanis warmed to the subject, eager to prove his knowledge of naval history and said, "But it has its advantages, we need all the guns we can get and with three carrier vessels we certainly won't be lacking for fighter cover."

Mandas was surprised, that was actually a cogent remark and he said, "Yes indeed, this may be our first time facing Tyranids, but I am confident that the Averof will do us proud this day."

Whatever comment Kaath-Dousmanis was about to make was interrupted as Grenfeld called up, "Captain, escorts report contacts, the enemy is in sight!"

Mandas wasted not a second to call, "Sound action stations! All crew to their posts, charge void shields and run out the guns. Look alive men, this is the real thing!"

Frantic activity burst into life as the crew scrambled to obey, officers rushing to and fro to bring the great ship into combat readiness. Shouts rang out and logic engines thrummed but this was the organised, reassuring sounds of a well-drilled crew responding to orders. One by the one the stations sounded off, each post calling out their readiness as their respective departments came to alert. When all was ready Mandas called, "Push the auspex feed from the escorts onto the Hololith, let's see what we're up against." The great Hololith flickered and dissolved into static, showing only a harsh grainy blur filled with swarming dots and blurs of colours. Mandas was about to swear and call for the Tech-Priests to bless the projector and correct the error, but then his jaw dropped as he saw scale markers at the edge of the display.

This was no imaging error, this actually was the enemy fleet.

Vast bio-ships undulated through the void, hideous creatures of pitted stone hides and twitching claws. No two bio-ships were alike, for the variety was shocking, each vessel its own unique creation of claws, fangs and tentacles. Orifices loomed ominously in their hulls, hinting at the deadly weapons held within and from gaping maws spilled wave after wave of spore clouds, making the fleet resemble a single nebula more than a squadron of vessels.

Silence fell across the bridge as the reality sank in, the Hololith showing an endless swarm of vessels approaching, an avalanche of foes sweeping across the blackness of space. Mandas had never seen so many ships in one place, not even Orks could match the multitudes of horrors coming at them. For the first time Mandas was shocked into silence and it was Kaath-Dosumanis who said softly, "God-Emperor protect us…"

The crew of the Averof struggled to grasp the scale of the nightmare they had blundered into and even seasoned officers went ashen-faced. The Imperials were ludicrously outnumbered and the chances of any of them surviving had just dropped perilously low. Mandas stood there in shock, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to see how they were going to get through this. He was shaken from his silence as the Hololith flared and star emerged amid the Hive fleet, the Captain cried, "What was that?!"

Grenfeld replied, "The Agamemnon, she just fired her Nova Canon."

Mandas looked at the Hololith and said, "Emperor bless the Rear-Admiral, right come lads, let's not be outdone. Get your arses in gear!"

The shock wore off the officers and the ship came back to readiness, crewmen rushing to get the ship prepared for the fight ahead. The Hololith flared again and Grenfeld called, "That was the Kilkis, she getting her shots in!" Mandas saw the explosion detonate in the midst of the Hive fleet, organic hulls being ripped open to spill ichor into the void. It was a mere pinprick to the might of the fleet but it was a stirring sight nonetheless. Mandas shouted loudly, "See them bleed lads, they are not invincible. We will teach them not to tangle with the Imperial Navy before this day is done! Now, where are my torpedoes?"

An officer at the Ordnance pulpit called, "Ready sir."

"Well, what are you waiting for," Mandas bellowed, "Shoot!"

The whole ship rumbled as six massive cylinders leapt from her prow, racing ahead to disappear into the swarming bulk of the Hive Fleet, the auspex being unable to track their progress in the seething clouds of spores. The torpedoes vanished behind the sheer mass of the Hive fleet and there was no way to tell if they had found a target or been swatted down. The Tyranids were swarming ever closer to the Imperial lines, the distance shrinking with bowel-loosening terror. Commander Grenfeld called, "Sir signal from the Lord Admiral: all ships to turn to port and form line astern, prepare to present all guns."

Mandas called, "All hands prepare for rapid manoeuvres: Helm come to a new heading. Gunnery ready weapons, let's give them a broadside to remember us by!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Fame Cimex Chapter 14**

The Tyranids came on like a tidal wave of ravenous flesh, their chipped and pitted hides shimmering in the distant starlight. Their claws were sharp and their tentacles grasped at the vacuum, eager to rend and tear and shred all they came in contact with. Orifices dilated to reveal shards the size of gunships, just waiting to be hurled at the prey, while maws seethed with Bio-Plasma.

Standing against them was a thin line of Imperial resistance, a wall of Plasteel trying to hold back a flood of chitin. The odds against them were staggering, the number of Xenos beyond counting, but they would stand and fight regardless. They had drawn a line in the sand and were determined to hold it, to turn back the Tyranids at any cost. On the bridge of the Averof Captain Mandas was gazing into the Hololithic display, watching the icons crawl ever closer. He muttered under his breath, "This is going to be bloody."

From behind him Kaath-Dousmanis said softly so the crew wouldn't hear, "The Imperial Navy has faced steeper odds before and emerged victorious."

Mandas spared him a second's glance and said, "Care to name a few instances?"

Kaath-Dousmanis answered, "Well… none come to mind."

Mandas said, "Well keep that to yourself, we don't want to panic the crew."

Suddenly Commander Grenfeld called, "Sir, signal from the Flag. All ships to maintain Line Astern formation as the enemy closes into range, fire as targets present themselves."

Mandas nodded and called, "Steady as she goes men, let's show them how this is done!"

On the Hololith the first whispers of the swarm were crossing into weapons range, the outriders spilling over a theoretical line in space. The first ship to greet them was the Hyperion, the battleship's superior range and firepower allowing her to strike the Tyranids before they could hope to reply. A cascade of fire and lance beams shot out to rip into the horde, gouging hides and burning wriggling creatures to ash. Mandas saw it was but a pinprick to the swarm but for his crew's sake he cried, "First blood to the Imperium!" The bridge officers cheered as the ships' choir began a triumphant declaration, it was a trifle premature but a confident spirit could make all the difference in the fight to come. Then Grenfeld called, "Sir, the Hektor is firing!"

Mandas looked back at the Hololith and saw that the old Grandcruiser was indeed unleashing her broadsides, the weight of firepower exceedingly potent for any ship classed below Battleship displacement. The torrent flooded out from the ship and met the Tyranids head-on, blasting apart bio-ships with ruthless precision. Kaath-Dousmanis sounded surprised as he commented, "I thought the Grandcruiser design was obsolete but that was rather impressive."

Mandas replied, "They are outmoded, not obsolete, they don't really fit current naval doctrine, but if used right they can still be a potent weapon of war."

The pair of them watched as the Tyranids hurtled onwards, the Averof lacked the range of some of its kin but what she lacked in reach she more than made up for in close ranged destruction. Mandas felt a bead of sweat crawling down the back of his neck but he refused to shiver, the crew needed to see his confidence that they could overcome this enemy.

The Tyranids barrelled on in a heaving mass of chitin, blotting out the starts with their bulk. Then they finally came into range and Mandas yelled, "Open Fire!" The whole cruiser shuddered as the starboard flank lit up, flinging shells, rockets, las and plasma into the void, this was followed by a pair of lance blasts that stitched bright flares across the dark as they stabbed deeply into the swarm. The salvo ripped into the oncoming mass of Chitin and blew protective spore clouds to dust before carrying on. A pair of Vanguard escorts were gutted by the onslaught, spilling entrails into the pitiless waste of space, where they flash froze in seconds.

Against any other foe such a broadside would have been a punishing opening move, but the Tyranids were not even given pause. The massive onslaught of Bio-ships swept over the remains of their kin with total disregard for their losses in their frenzy to reach the Imperials. Then the Bio-ships undulated and spasmed, spitting out a hail of chitinous shards at the Imperial vessels, puncturing the void with razor-sharp barbs. The onslaught fell upon the Imperial's shields, making them flare and spark as they struggled to shunt away the deadly force. The torrent was so thick it seemed like a thunderstorm, one that would make a man gasp in shock merely to witness. The shields held for few seconds and then collapsed, spreading an electromagnetic blast in all directions as they did so. Now unopposed the shards tore into the exposed Imperial hulls, blowing out compartments, severing power feeds and life support, condemning hundreds to die from suffocation or hypothermia.

On the Averof's bridge Mandas was clinging to the rail of the dais as the ship shook around him, the crew desperately trying to keep their stations functioning in the midst of horrific violence. The lower-grade Commissars marching to and fro to instil order while the Clergy led prayers begging salvation from on high. Through the tumult Commander Grenfeld was shouting, "Impacts, impacts on all decks! We're taking heavy damage!"

Mandas gritted his teeth and barked, "Get those gun batteries firing again!"

Grenfeld yelled back, "Sir, we can't withstand this for long!"

"Resume," barked Mandas furiously, "Firing!"

As the ship shook once more to the reassuring noise of the weapon batteries discharging Mandas roared, "Where the hell are my lances?!"

Grenfeld said, "Captain, Lances are haemorrhaging power, the Tech-Priests report they must perform a Sacramental Mass before attempting a bypass."

Mandas yelled, "Tell them to forget the bloody Mass, just run the damned shunt now!"

Grenfeld relayed the message and then had to hold the vox horn away from her ear, so profane was the response. She waited for it to subside and then said, "Captain, the Tech-Priests are expressing… concern at that notion, they say it risks offending the Machine Spirits and may burn out the capacitors."

Mandas stared into the Hololith, which was full of heaving Tyranid forms, surrounding the Imperial fleet on all sides now. The Captain gritted his teeth and said, "Then burn them out."

As the crew bent to their task Mandas rubbed the rail and whispered softly, "Come on old girl, I know you've got it in you. After everything we've been through together, are you really going to let some damned bugs have their way with you now?"

Suddenly a gunnery officer stood up and yelled, "Sir, Lances are charged!"

"I knew she could do it," shouted Mandas joyfully as he thumped the rail, "Fire!"

Once more the mighty lances fired, blasting out into the swarm, at this range it was impossible to miss and the beams tore into beast after beast. They convulsed and juddered under the killing power of the beams, thrashing futilely as they died in agony. For a single second the Averof managed to clear space around herself and the ship was surrounded by a cloud of sundered flesh and broken bodies. With a second to think Mandas looked into the Hololith and saw the rest of the fleet being similarly engaged, each vessel fighting to hold back hordes of ravenous horrors. In the midst of the swirling nightmares the Agamemnon was embattled on all sides, her crew struggling to deny the foe even as her own fighters cartwheeled in dizzying swirls around her. Everywhere flocks of lesser beasts sought to clamp on and release fanged monstrosities into the bilges of Imperial ships, the fighters met them with their weapons blazing, destroying as many boarding pods as they could.

The Kilkis however was sailing through the clouds like a queen of the void, destroying everything within reach. At short ranges her gun batteries rivalled a Battleship's and she gutted drone after drone, leaving a path of destruction in her wake. Sheltering in her shadow Proteus squadron clung together in tight formation, firing at stragglers trying to sneak around the rear.

Pandora squadron however was not having as much success, flocks of winged tentacle mouthed nightmares inundating them from all directions. The ships moved closer together for protection, combing their point defence turrets in an effort to hold back the foe. It didn't work for the Tyranids were relentless, ignoring their casualties to dive upon the escorts and latch on, releasing hordes of clawed beasts into their hulls.

Elsewhere the Spetsai and the Cadmus fought side by side, combining their broadsides and tearing the foe apart. A Razorfiend cut across their bows, its mouth gaping wide in preparation to unleash a frothing scum of Bio-plasma. Before it could fire Triton squadron intervened, climbing vertically from below the plane of battle, their guns filling space with torrents of fire to blast the Tyranid cruiser in the rear. The twin light cruisers added their own fire, sending out spears of coherent light that plunged into the beast's hearts. The Cruiser quivered and rolled over, then it finally died.

At the rear of the formation the Aetos was beset by a shelled mollusc like Bio-ship, it was wrapping the carrier with thick tentacles that emerged from its shell, searching for a way inside. The questing tentacles found the open hanger bays, plunging within to fill the spaces with tendrils the size of bombers. Fuel lines and ammunition hoists were severed, setting raging fires racing through the ship and killing thousands of crewmen. The Aetos rolled over, flames licking from every airlock and hatch as her crew fought to survive and put out the fires.

On the Averof's bridge Mandas was directing the ship's efforts in the battle, trying to keep the Tyranids at arm's length. The battle was bloody and ferocious and casualties were already mounting, but the Imperials were holding firm. Despite their prodigious numbers the Tyranids could not break up the fleet's defence and were suffering greatly for it.

Mandas took a breath and saw the Imperials were holding the line; there was yet a remote chance that they could break this onslaught of enemies. This was the ultimate test, discipline against bestiality, the coordinated battle line against sheer, overwhelming numbers.

Suddenly Mandas heard a gasp from behind him and he saw out of the corner of his eye Kaath-Dousmanis pointing at the Hololith in horror. The Captain looked up and gasped in turn, the display was filled with a sheer white mass of contacts closing in, a Tsunami of chitin pouring into sensor range. The heaving mass of flesh totally eclipsed the swarm already engaging the Imperials, surpassing it in every way imaginable and at its heart were the unmistakable icons of a pair of Hive Ships.

Kaath-Dousmanis was looking on in horror and said in a small voice, "How is this possible?"

Mandas was equally aghast and said in a disbelieving tone, "It was a probe; we've only been fighting a scouting party. That is the true Hive Fleet."


	15. Chapter 15

**Fame Cimex Chapter 15**

The Tyranids came on in a staggeringly vast wave of destruction, barrelling forwards with claws and tentacles grasping out at the dark. Their endless hordes filled space end to end, making the advanced party looked feeble and miniscule. At the heart of the fleet drifted two Hive Ships, each one out massing all any lesser pretender they were bloated Leviathans, miles long and bearing the most hideous of weapons.

One of them had trailing tendrils that billowed behind it as it moved, almost like branches in the wind. From chasms in its hide spilled wave after wave of fleshy boarding pods and drones, surrounding their mothership in a billowing cloud of flesh. The other Hive Ship had massive rending claws that protruded from its bow, scythes as long as escort frigates and covered in hollow tubes just waiting to disgorge teeming bio-forms into a prey's hull. The Hive Fleet dove upon the embattled Imperial line, drowning them in sheer numbers and any distant observer would have struggled to even see them through the cloud of swarming vessels. On the Averof's bridge Captain Mandas was roaring, "Fire you dogs! Hit them again, hold nothing back!"

Commander Grenfeld said, "Sir, weapons are running too hot, we can't maintain this rate of fire!"

Mandas replied, "If we slow then we die, we have to keep up our rate at all costs. Signal the Aetos to swing alongside; we can cover her while she puts out those fires."

Grenfeld paused for a moment then called, "Sir I can't raise the Aetos at all, she's gone quiet… I think her crew are all dead."

Mandas thumped the rail and said, "Damn it the bugs will pay for that… find me something big to kill."

Grenfeld checked the reports and said, "Sir Razorfiend cruiser, dead ahead."

Mandas growled, "Target Torpedoes and fire."

Kaath-Dousmanis looked concerned and said, "They're too close, we won't survive the blast if they blow up."

Mandas didn't argue but said, "I don't think we should be concerned with survival at this point."

The Averof rumbled as six ship-killing torpedoes leapt from her prow, crossing the distance to the cruiser with unseemly speed. Two of the torpedoes missed outright, but so thick was the environment with targets that they went on to smash into a pair of escorts regardless. The rest hit the cruiser dead on and exploded; tearing out its guts and making it shudder and scream silently in the vacuum. The cruiser rolled over and limped away, not exploding but crippled and unable to fight anymore. The Averof's bridge crew were cheering but Mandas roared, "Get back to it you dogs, there's plenty more out there that needs killing!" He looked into the Hololith and saw the Imperials surrounded from every single direction, swarms of beasts attacking with feral ferocity. The Navy ships were blasting away with every weapon they had left and were killing scores of Bio-ships, but it wasn't making any difference. The weight of numbers was beyond calculation and there had never been any chance of them actually surviving in the face of such astronomical odds.

Suddenly Kaath-Dousmanis gasped and said, "Oh Throne no… the Hyperion."

Mandas looked up at the Hololith and saw what he meant, the great battleship was beset on all sides by Tyranid vessels, tearing and blasting at its hull. Yet worse than any of that was that one of the Hive Ships was closing in, its immense rending claws opening wide like a squid preparing to feast. The Hyperion frantically brought her guns to bear, blasting away with weapon battery and lances in a desperate attempt to keep the beast at bay.

The weapons tore and ripped at the thick hide, blowing craters the size of buildings into its flesh. One lance beam even caught a rending claw and severed it halfway along its length, leaving a bleeding wound that spilled warrior forms into the void. It was the forlorn act of dying men for the Hive Ship ignored its wounds, closing inexorably closer to its prey and then it impacted. Had it been possible the noise of the impact would have shaken the pillars of heaven itself, two giga-tonne masses colliding with awful, majestic grace. The rending claws tore right through the Battleship's armour, punching deeply within to shatter compartments and destroy power feeds and transitways. The two ships were tangled together, locked in a deadly embrace like a crocodile snaring its prey in a death roll.

Fleshy tubes in the rending claws began to pulse and undulate, conveying deadly hordes of lesser beasts into the Battleship's guts. The human crew already dazed and bewildered by the attack found themselves beset by fanged, clawed killer beasts. Millions of genetically tailored killing machines racing through the Battleship's bowels, seeking out every last man and devouring them alive.

On the Averof's bridge Captain Mandas saw the death of the Hyperion was inevitable but he swore that he would be damned if he let it go unchallenged. He roared, "Helm plot a course to take us close to the rear of that beast, we can cross at point-blank range and ram a red hot poker right up their rear!"

The crew rushed to obey but Kaath-Dousmanis looked pale and said, "Captain, it's not going to work there are too many Tyranids in our path, we won't make contact before they rip us to shreds."

Mandas looked at him and snarled, "Then we will die trying, we all swore to lay down our lives in service to the God-Emperor and this is as fine a way as any I have ever seen. The spirit of the Averof will be pleased; I have finally found her a worthy death."

Kaath-Dousmanis opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as Commander Grenfeld shouted excitedly, "Sir, new contacts! New Contacts! We have more vessels heaving into range!"

Mandas's eyes snapped back to the Hololith which showed a new and unidentified force entering the combat zone. He held his breath in anticipation, not even daring to articulate his desperate hope lest even thinking such a thing dash it asunder. There was only one other force in the system that could have hoped to intervene but they had been driven off, could it be that they had dared to defy fate itself and come regardless? Mandas gripped the rail and muttered, "Come on, come on; just this once, just for once let fate be on our side."

The vox crackled and a voice came over the air, it was stern and harsh yet to the Navy men it was wondrous to behold and it declared, "All ships of the Imperial Navy this is Chapter Master Gorgall, under the auspices of the emergency war conventions I am assuming command of the fleet. All vessels are hereby directed to disengage and withdraw while our ships clear a path for you to evacuate. Fall back to Angle's Redoubt for Regroup and Counterattack: the Storm Heralds have your back."

Mandas looked on in amazement as the Space Marine vessels dived into the fray, weapon batteries and Bombardment Canons smashing and annihilating everything in reach. Bio-ships were torn asunder by the barrage, withering and dying while Thunderhawks wheeled and spun, engaging and destroying boarding pods and drones everywhere. The Astartes were still massively outnumbered, they could not dare to dream of beating the Hive Fleet, but they could blast open a narrow evacuation corridor, a thin lifeline for the Imperial Fleet to retreat along.

Mandas saw that the Kilkis and the Agamemnon were already swinging away, leading the crippled fleet out of the combat zone, but he could not leave yet. He looked again and saw the Hyperion still tangled with the great Hive Ship, fighting to survive even now. Mandas said, "We cannot leave without the Lord Admiral, we must get that leech off the Hyperion's neck before we withdraw."

The crew looked grim, knowing the chances of surviving such an encounter were slim indeed but they were determined to follow their daring Captain anywhere. Men lifted golden Aquilla's to their lips and made last prayers as Mandas swiftly calculated the vectors in his head, but before the order could be given the Hololithic communication pedestal unexpectedly flared and an image of a man appeared. His gold braiding was hanging loose and his high collar had been torn off but it was unmistakably the visage of Lord Admiral Dousmanis, he was frantically calling, "Henrique, Henrique… can you hear me?"

The Captain turned to face the image and replied, "Lord Admiral, this is the Averof we are receiving your transmission."

The man blinked in surprise and said, "Mandas? I was trying to reach my nephew… Look our communications system is damaged, I can't reach anyone else. You'll have to relay my orders for me."

Mandas said, "Sir we are off your starboard flank, if we swing across we can give that beast a broadside right up the arse."

The Lord Admiral shook his head and said, "No, it's too late for that, the Hyperion is filled with things I can't even describe. They're clawing at the bridge hatch as I speak, we'll all be dead before you can intervene. I need you to relay my orders to the fleet, confirm the order to retreat and fall back under the Astartes' covering fire, salvage whatever can be saved. Then contact my nephew; tell him he will assume command of the fleet as soon as they are in safe vectors."

Mandas swallowed, knowing that the Lord Admiral was about to die and said, "Understood sir, may the Emperor be with you."

Dousmanis sighed and said, "I suspect he will cast me down for my many sins, but I won't let good men be dragged down with me. Tell my nephew not to trust those snakes Giovanni and Zerban, they will smile to his face, but then plunge a knife into his back at the first opportunity. Tell him that somehow they knew all about the money from Lascham, but he doesn't need to fall into the same snare. Tell him to look in my safe at the family manor, there's a data-slate in there which has…."

Suddenly there was a terrible screeching noise and the Lord Admiral looked away in terror at something beyond the range of the Hololith. His image grabbed for its laspistol and he screamed as he frantically blasted away at something only he could see, then there was a blur of fangs and claws. The image fell out of sight, leaving only the hideous screeching noises that made spines shiver in fear.

Mandas swallowed and said, "Shut that bloody thing off."

As silence fell Kaath-Dousmanis said, "What now?"

Mandas answered grimly, "Now we tell the fleet to get the hell out of here and lick our wounds. Make no mistake this isn't over, we will see the Tyranids again soon and we will make them pay for what they did here today."


	16. Chapter 16

**Fame Cimex Chapter 16**

In the deep inky depths of space a line of lights moved, a group of imperial ships headed deeper into the stellar system. They were battered and bloodied, each vessel bearing terrible wounds upon their armoured hulls that testified to their recent battles. Now they were limping home, looking for succour in the distant docks of Angle's Redoubt. On the edge of the formation sailed the Battlebarge Light of Terra, her gunports blackened by recent firings for her tally of kills had been impressive. She had fought hard and wrecked a terrible toll on the Xeno, but now she was guiding her compatriots' home like a mother hen.

On her spine the great observation dome was occupied by three beings who were all distinctly Transhuman in nature. The first was Captain Toran, resplendent in his new Third Company heraldry as the stars shone down upon him; the second was Ninth Captain Phalros standing stern and patrician as ever. The third however was completely different from the Space Marines in every way, a floating box in a red robe: it was Magos Castabore and she was floating serenely at eye level with the Astartes.

Captain Toran was talking and he said, "We are indebted to you Magos, without your offer to resupply and refit our fleet none of this would have been possible."

Magos did not sound flattered as she snapped, "Kidnapping myself and my fellow Adepts was not part of the arrangement!"

Phalros stated calmly, "A regrettable necessity, time was against us for we could not let the Imperial Navy draw too far ahead, lest they be utterly destroyed."

Castabore replied, "A risky strategy, you defied the Inquisition to its face."

Phalros answered, "That was why we could not intervene earlier, the battle had to turn against the fleet before we could show our hand."

Toran nodded and said, "Do we know how many ships we salvaged?"

Phalros replied, "Approximately two-thirds of the fleet."

Castabore tutted and said, "Four Cruisers of various displacement, two Light Cruisers, seven escorts Frigates. Not counting servitors this includes ninety-eight thousand, four hundred and seven Naval personnel along with eight thousand nine hundred and fourteen Mechanicus adepts of various ranks."

The pair of them stared at her for a long moment, then Toran said, "So where is the Hive Fleet?"

Phalros replied, "Trailing behind us, even in our damaged state the fleet has a slight edge in speed. It doesn't seem to matter though, the Tyranids are making no apparent effort to give chase."

Castabore replied, "The Hive Mind has no need to chase us, gathering bio-mass is their priority. As long as we do not stand directly between them and their targets we are irrelevant."

"Good," replied Toran, "Both our fleets needs time to rebuild after this battle, every day, every hour they dawdle is time for us to prepare."

Castabore stated, "The statistical probability of surviving another encounter is low."

Toran refuted her statement by saying, "We must trust Chapter Master Gorgall to lead us through."

Castabore did not seem reassured and said, "Speaking of whom, where is he?"

Phalros replied, "Speaking to the Rear-Admiral, they are discussing how to divide authority over our combined task force."

Toran asked, "Can we trust him?"

Phalros replied, "Do not be concerned, Dousmanis the Younger seems rather incandescent about the situation. He appears to blame the Inquisition and the Ecclessiarchy in particular for how things have played out."

Toran asked, "So he's on our side?"

Phalros replied, "Imperial politics is a fluid state of affairs, but for now he will support our right to join the war effort. With the Navy staunchly behind us, the rest of the Imperial Departmentos will soon fall silent."

Toran sighed in relief and said, "It is good to hear that, the new Lord Admiral will be a valuable ally."

Phalros snorted and said, "It does not work like that, there are scores of Admirals in this sector alone, there will be a metaphorical bloodbath when word comes out of this power vacuum."

Castabore stated, "I would not count Dousmanis the Younger out just yet, the family is old and rich, their wealth exceeds their recorded revenues streams. The Dousmanis family are even said to have connections with the Senatorum Imperialis and to make sizable contributions to three High Lords of Terra. My probability calculations predict a sixty-seven percent chance that the young admiral will seize the Lord Admiral's position, ninety-one percent if he can claim victory here."

Toran stated, "First thing first, we have to win before we can claim the laurels. Now.." Suddenly an alarm began blaring loudly and there was the faint noise of the crew rushing to their action stations. Toran's vox crackled and the distant voice of Chaplain Wrethan came through saying, "Bridge to Captain's Toran and Phalros, report to the conn immediately!"

Toran opened the link and called, "Father, what is it? Have the Tyranids found us?"

Wrethan replied, "No it is not the Xenos, we have a lone, unidentified ship closing on the fleet at near light-speed."

Phalros broke in to say, "One ship, that can't be right."

Toran said, "We are on our way."

The Space Marines turned and sprinted from the observation gallery, heading up the spinal accessway with the Magos trailing behind. They were several miles from the bridge and it would take far too long to run there, so they diverted to a transitway. This was one of many threaded throughout the ship, then they summoned a Grav-capsule to convey them. The minutes dragged by and there was no way to know what this strange occurrence could herald, if Wrethan had more information he surely would have contacted them. Any other men would have been plagued with worry and doubt, but the Astartes were conditioned by training and gene-forging against such petty concerns. The Magos may well have had such parts of her brain excised and there was no way to tell what thoughts passed through her head.

Soon the transit capsule emerged near the bridge and the trio leapt out to dash for the great doors, passing numerous security checkpoints, gun emplacements and even Sergeant Priyar's squad standing guard duty. They were ushered past all of these and entered the Light of Terra's bridge, finding the great cathedral-like space filled with busy activity as serfs and servitors worked to unwrap this enigma.

Toran and Phalros mounted the dais where Chaplain Wrethan was overseeing the crew, Magos Castabore paused discretely until Toran waved her up too. Toran faced the Chaplain and said, "Father Wrethan, report status."

The Chaplain replied, "The intruder is closing with utmost alacrity, our Auspexs barely gave us any notice at all, such is its speed. We only had any warning because it is decelerating hard, burning its drives at full power to slow down and match our velocity."

Phalros rubbed his chin and said, "That implies that they were in the Warp when the Shadow of the Hive Mind engulfed the system, they must have re-translated back on the very edge of the Heliopause. Then they maxed out their drives in one long, continuous burn to reach such speeds, I hate to think what that would do to their engines."

Toran nodded and said, "Do we have any identification on that vessel yet?"

Wrethan glanced at the crowds of Serfs and said, "They damned well better have one by now."

The serfs noticed the angry Chaplain glaring at them and one of them hurried over with a data-slate in hand, he presented it to the glowering Masters and stammered, "My Lords, we have confirmed the intruder's class, she is a Strike Cruiser. Yet the Logic Engines cannot match her identification, her broadcast pennants are distorted in some manner."

"Give me that," snapped Castabore archly as she grabbed the data-slate from the pale hand and began sorting through the readings, "Your ignorance offends the Omnissiah, don't any of you flesh-bags know how to compensate for Doppler shifts relative to objects moving at the speed of light in a vacuum?"

As the Tech-Priest went to work Toran turned to Phalros and said, "One Strike Cruiser all alone... do you think the Chapter's Homeworld managed to get another ship out of refit and send it to aid us?"

Phalros looked doubtful and said, "Well another ship is certainly nothing to sneer at, but it doesn't seem right. This is very peculiar."

Suddenly Castabore snorted and said, "Hah, simplicity itself, I've identified the intruder. Here see for yourself."

Toran took the proferred data-slate and read it, then his eyes went wide. Phalros said, "Well?" but Toran merely shoved the slate into his hands as he called out to the bridge crew, "Get me a direct link to that ship, now!"

The crew rushed to obey but even so it was a few minutes labour to make a connection, the irrefutable laws of space making communication between vessels more than a few light-minutes apart tediously slow. Using Astropaths was out of the question for anything less than interplanetary distances.

Toran waited and fumed as the vox operators chattered and shouted at each other but then finally then cried in delight and the Hololithic comms pedestal stirred to life. Cast in its light was a Space Marine, equally broad and armoured as the Captains themselves, but at the same time utterly different. Whereas their armour was the deepest blue, his was a dark, gravely brown that slowly faded to black as it rose to meet the torso, while the left arm and pauldron were a smokey grey shade. This Marine's Chapter badge was a leaping feline predator in profile with claws and fangs exposed and his exposed face was pale skinned, with short black hair and dark eyes. Furthermore his plate was covered in adornments and strange knotwork patterns and he had an open book pinned on one shoulder plate, with many scrolls hung from his belt. His right arm was oddly blue and he carried a thick staff topped with a ram's skull and over his pale head arched a psychic hood.

Toran gasped at the sight and he breathed in disbelief, "Shade Seer Imix K'awiil?!"

After a long delay, the time it took the vox signal to travel to the distant ship and back, the image stirred and said, "Ah Captain Toran, Light of the Dawn be upon you."

Toran was struggling to process this strange apparition and he said, "What.. what are you doing here?"

Shade-Seer Imix tutted and replied, "The stars whispered to our oracles and told us a tale of woe, that the Storm Heralds stand alone and call for aid against the Great Devourer. Be at peace my friends and know that the Smoke Jaguars Chapter has answered."


	17. Chapter 17

**Fame Cimex Chapter 17**

Orbiting high over Angle's Redoubt, the Inquisition's starfort sat among the shoals of dockyards and defence platforms like a disapproving teacher over a fearful class in a Scholam. The shuttles, cargo ships and defence monitors all made sure to steer well clear, as if afraid that the dark guardians within could see into their thoughts and would send legions of leashed Daemons to hunt them down.

Yet if they could have seen inside they would have been disappointed by how mundane and ordinary the station was. Various crewmen and servitors simply going about their business, doing the multitudes of tasks any spaceborne facility required. Supplies were received and sorted; crew shifts were handed over, men trained and work and slept just like they did anywhere else in the galaxy. The crew bore the brands of the Inquisition, but they were not true acolytes of that order, they were mere functionaries inducted to serve the basic requirements of the Ordos and nothing more.

Of the true Inquisition, there were barely a handful of representatives aboard, tending the forbidden libraries, torturing dissidents in the dungeons and scouring the planet's data-nets for signs of Heresy. There were data-savants, Hierophants, Interrogators, gun-slingers, Sanctioned Psykers, Medicaes and Warp-Mystics, but as for those deemed pure enough to rank as true Inquisitors there were currently only four on board. One of these four was presently sitting in a luxurious office, staring out at the stars and contemplating the past and the future. He sat in a black bodysuit, while his powered armour rested on a display stand. His name was Zerban and he was a Lord Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, one with the scars to prove it. His name and title were feared throughout the Saint Karyl Trail, his litany of deeds and the Heretics he had purged was impressive and had brought him much power and respect among the Ordos, as well as many rivals.

Zerban was currently contemplating those rivals with his fingers steepled before him, knowing that they were plotting his downfall just as he was theirs. His rank may have sounded impressive but the Inquisition was a fractious organisation and his fellow Inquisitors all believed themselves the ultimate authority of the God-Emperor's will. It had taken him centuries of influence and careful power building to reach his position and he had no intention of losing it now. Zerban had long since passed over the mundane chores of field work, though he was quite capable of smiting the foe if necessary he often found it inefficient and time-consuming. These days he found it far more effective to get the Imperial institutions to destroy his enemies for him, turning them to his purposes like a well-tuned machine. Zerban saw himself more as a back-door problem solver than anything else, he looked down upon those Inquisitors who lacked the imagination to do more than blast and burn away whatever they found before them.

Behind Zerban the door gave a discrete cheep and he indulged himself with a small smile, he was currently keeping Cardinal Giovanni waiting in the outer office, a situation that had endured for almost an hour. It was petty, banal and venal and Zerban knew it was exactly what Giovanni would have done in his place, the Cardinal was all of these things and the Inquisitor was accustomed to using his rival's own tactics against them. Still he supposed this had gone on long enough so he spun his high back chair around and positioned himself behind a large Nalwood desk before saying, "Come." The hatch swung up into the ceiling and the Cardinal entered, flanked by two Sisters-of-Battle in full plate armour. Giovanni had grown increasingly paranoid and distrustful, even daring to bring armed bodyguards into his meetings, Zerban wasn't concerned though, the man was far too cowardly to dare anything.

As the Cardinal approached Zerban had time to consider the man, he was a typical example of the Imperial priesthood, lazy, self-indulgent, corrupt and utterly confident in his own right to do as he pleased. Once when Zerban had been a much, much younger man he had railed against the corruption of the Imperium, but now he welcomed it: it made such men so easy to extort and control. Giovanni himself had a long, long list of sins to cover up, a fact Zerban had repeatedly threatened to reveal to his superiors many times. Yet what the man failed to recognise was that those Zerban would report him to were in fact far more corrupt than he was. The litany of sins he had built up wouldn't even raise an eyebrow on Terra or any of the worlds of the Imperial heartlands around it.

Zerban reflected that more than any other Imperial institution the Ecclessiarchy seemed almost purpose-built to foster corruption. Surely there must be men of good faith and honour within it, but such individuals were ruthlessly excised at a young age and sent out to distant war zones. Only the cowardly and the debased were permitted to rise and the cesspool grew more rancid every day. The Great Sebastian Thor had once tried to cut out the rot, even creating internal policing forces to purify it, but the decay had swiftly returned. Zerban knew for a fact that these Sisters-of-battle, those charged with vouchsafing the integrity of this Cardinal, in fact spent their nights keeping a steady supply of drugs, wines and young flesh flowing into Giovanni's chambers.

Finally Giovanni waddled up to the desk and threw himself into a leather chair without asking, he mopped his red face with a silk handkerchief and gestured to one of his guards saying, "Amasec." The battle plated sister grudgingly lowered her bolter to her hip and clomped over to a sidebar, pouring a crystal decanter out into a glass; she waved a poison sniffer over it then returned. Giovanni treated his most veteran warriors like serving girls, no wonder Zerban found it so easy to manipulate him.

Zerban let him sip the vintage brew then growled, "Well what do you want?"

Giovanni clutched his glass and replied, "Haven't you heard, the Imperial Navy has been defeated!"

Zerban waved off the concerns and said, "It is of no importance."

"No importance!" wailed Giovanni, "The Hive Fleet broke them with ease, the Great Devourer is coming. It's coming right here, for you and me!"

Zerban shrugged and said, "Xenos threats come and go, they always have and they always will. The Imperium has weathered Waaaghs and invasions for millennia and it is still here, this is no different. No the real danger in this situation is the Storm Heralds, they think to worm their way back into the Imperium's good graces."

Giovanni stared at him and said, "I think you're underestimating the Tyranid threat, they have cut us off from all communications and transit with the Imperium, their monsters are already here!"

Zerban remembered that the Cardinal had recently been attacked in his own Cathedral, a narrow escape that explained his fear and his most recent bout of hedonism. The Inquisitor waved off his fears and said, "The greatest threat the Imperium has ever, or will ever face is Chaos and the Astartes are the tools of the Ruinous Powers. They were made to be pure, to defend humanity but how many of them have fallen over the last ten thousand years? They think themselves perfect but they are just as corrupted as anyone else and they don't even realise it."

Giovanni shook his head and said, "I have never understood your obsession with the Space Marines, are they not the work of the hand of the God-Emperor?"

Zerban answered, "Oh I understand well why He made them, the Great Crusade needed a battering ram, a weapon to break the Xeno hordes infesting the galaxy. But those rabid dogs should never be given the freedom to direct themselves, they should have been kept in cages or Cyro-caskets like the Eversors, before being thrown into battle. Why the God-Emperor gave them the ability to reproduce is beyond me, at the very least the Gene-tech to produce new Astartes should never have been allowed to leave Terra. I intend to finally put a leash on those arrogant war-dogs and the Storm Heralds are the next step along that path."

Giovanni sighed and said, "So what are we going to do about all this?"

Zerban answered, "The Storm Heralds will be coming back, thinking to turn the other institutions to their side, we have to stop that."

Giovanni gulped his Amasec and said, "Do you think we can?"

Zerban slapped the desk and said, "The Storm Heralds made the biggest mistake possible in politics, they made themselves inconvenient. The other Institutions bear no love for those upstarts."

Giovanni had a thought and said, "Do you think the new Admiral can be tempted to our side?"

Zerban said frankly, "No, he's already broadcasting his intentions, he has taken the Storm Herald's side."

Giovanni smirked then said, "Perhaps we should do the same thing to him that we did to his uncle, if people knew what the Dousmanis family has done to earn all that wealth, then their name would be mud."

Zerban grimaced and said, "Would that we could, unfortunately the late Lord Admiral's death has made him a martyr… nobody wants an Imperial Hero's legend besmirched after the fact. Dousmanis the Younger is shielded by that reflected glory, he's untouchable now."

Giovanni had an evil glint in his eye and said, "Then play the man not the ball, I have heard rumours that the young Admiral enjoys inviting some of the more good-looking male officers to his quarters in the night. If his wife and family heard of this…"

Zerban sighed before saying, "You think they don't already know? This isn't Terra or the heartlands, as long as he produces heirs they don't care what he does elsewhere. The same is true of the wider Imperium; as long as he wins nobody gives a crap who he spends his nights with."

Giovanni looked frustrated and said, "Then purge him! Call out your armies and fleets to remove him, replace him with somebody more malleable."

Zerban went very still, for Giovanni had hit upon a thorny problem. In the strictest sense the Inquisition did not exist, there was no hierarchy of superiors, no vast fleets and armies waiting to be unleashed. There were only a few scattered bases and training facilities and whatever armed forces an individual Inquisitor could requisition. Even the Chamber's Militant, (the Assassins, the Sisters of Battle, the Deathwatch and the Grey Knights), were separate institutions and oft went their own ways at the most inconvenient moments.

The Inquisition's only real power was that people believed it was powerful, so if Dousmanis the Younger genuinely thought that Zerban couldn't touch him, then there was nothing to be done. Zerban had no intention of being one of those fools who walked into a room, flashed his Rosette and got gunned down for his troubles. Zerban drew in a breath and said, "No, this is not the time for brash action. I am going to start making calls to the various Adepts, you get back down to the planet and make yourself seen."

Giovanni gasped and said, "I am not going back, not with that monster down there!"

Zerban barked, "You will go where I tell you to go."

Giovanni quivered, "But the Tyranids, they want me!"

Zerban glared at him in disgust, fixing him with a steely gaze that made Giovanni shrink into himself and nod in acquiescence. Zerban nodded in satisfaction and said, "Good, then we have much work to do. It is time to remind everybody who really rules this Imperium."


	18. Chapter 18

**Fame Cimex Chapter 18**

Darkness sat upon the Hive city, swathing it in a midnight shawl that lay heavily in the alleys and slums of the poorest people. Tired day shift workers trudged home, hands calloused from hard labour and thinking only of snatching six meagre hours of sleep before returning to do it all over again. Meanwhile the denizens of the night emerged, the thieves, whores, peddlers and thugs, all emerging from the safety of the Underhive to seek their victims.

They were not the only predators abroad in the night, for high above their heads something truly inhuman was stalking the city. The Tyranid Lictor was carefully making its way from rooftop to rooftop, seeking fresh victims. The Lictor was being driven by a force it did not understand, the voice of the Hive Mind growing ever stronger as the Fleet closed in and ever more ardent in its demands that the Leader-Beast be caught. Unfortunately the animal had demonstrated unusual cunning, going to ground in its nest behind layers of protection even the Lictor could not penetrate. Yet the Lictor was not without cunning of its own, the Leader-Beast could not be reached so it must be drawn out, lured into the open where it could be targeted. The Tyranids had consumed this type of prey before and one of the characteristics displayed was that when the herd was afraid the Leader-Beasts had a habit of making appearances.

Towards that end the Lictor had spent the last few weeks stalking the streets of the city, hunting prey in small numbers or alone. The wastrels and the emancipated, packs of young bulls or mated pairs with young in their dens, all had fallen to its scythes. The Lictor had left the bodies where they would be found, driven by its instinct to make sure that the scenes displayed deliberate intention rather than random violence. The result of this was that the city was now wrapped in fear and terror, the prey huddling together in larger groups and spending as little time as possible out in the open. They had gathered in large flocks around the Leader-Beast's warren, camping outside and bleating loudly day and night. Yet despite all that the Leader-Beast was proving to be most wily, refusing to show itself even as the herds of prey beat upon the entrance to its den.

The Lictor had no concept of frustration or impatience and yet the Hive mind was growing ever more strident in its demands. Driven by its instincts the Lictor recognised that it needed to change tactics, it needed bigger prey. For this reasons it was headed across the city in a straight line, seeking a most enticing scent upon the breeze. Swiftly and completely unobserved the Lictor approached a squat prey warren, one with thick walls and lines of spikes around its base. It seemed oddly out of place but the scent was undeniable, it was filled with young, genetically viable material. The Tyranid creature had no concept of an orphanage or of Scholams, all it knew was that the prey valued their young and any attack here would draw out the Leader-Beast.

The Lictor effortlessly leapt the spiked rail and scaled the crumbling wall, its claws punching into the stonework to climb vertically like a spider. It reached the roof and scrambled over the slates silently, instinctively seeking a hidden entrance rather than attempting the frontal attack most Tyranid genus' would favour. The roof was punctured by hot ventilation shafts, most of them spewing out soot to deter insects but it soon found a cold and still vent and lowered itself inside head first. The tunnel was narrow but short and the Lictor emerged into a dark and dusty nest, long unused by any prey. The door presented a challenge for a minute, as the Lictor tried to grasp the concept of a handle but eventually trial and error let it slip silently out into the corridor beyond. It began prowling the warren, wary of being detected too soon and alarming the prey.

Suddenly it froze as it detected the vibration of footsteps, an opening in the wall creaking wide as an elderly female (well past breeding age) slipped out quietly, trying not to wake those slumbering within. The Lictor was as still as a statue as the female took a step back and then turned around, seeing the Tyranid filling the corridor before it. The female opened its mouth to raise a warning but the Lictor reacted faster, spitting a series of flesh barbs from its chest to impale the female in a dozen places. Quick as thought the muscle sinews spasmed and retracted, hurling the female forward into the Lictor's embrace where it silently broke the weak neck joint. The Lictor noiselessly lowered the corpse to the ground and moved on, standing just outside the door.

Its superior hearing could the breathing within, the sounds of a dozen immature pups sleeping inside. Instinct propelled it inside and it found the prey waiting in neat rows as they slept. Compassion, mercy and restraint were utterly incomprehensible to the Tyranid organism and it moved through the nest, leaving none alive. Then it went back out and found another nest, and another and another. The Lictor worked its way through the warren, slaying all it found, young and old, females and even one aged male, surely the old Alpha of this pride. The Lictor's movements were swift and certain, emptying the warren of life was the work of less than an hour and then it slipped out the way it had come in.

The Lictor immediately relocated, moving to another warren and positioning itself so it could observe proceedings. It waited perfectly still and unmoving as the horizon began to glimmer and the first light of dawn crept over the city. Life began to stir in the city and crowds of prey began their ritual behaviours but still the Lictor held its position and waited for the right moment.

Eventually a single female came up to the warren, carrying wicker pouches of food. It signalled its arrival to gain entry, but paused when no one came to meet it. The Lictor watched as the female hesitantly entered and waited with eerie calm, the delay was not long before a screech of alarm rose from the warren. The noise made the Lictor's senses quiver, then the female emerged from the interior and collapsed at the spiked rail, still screaming at the top of its lungs.

Soon a herd of prey had gathered, a few males daring to enter the warren themselves but all emerged again in panicked horror, many regurgitating on the ground. The crowd swiftly grew larger and larger until suddenly there was a blare of aerial alerts and a clumpy metal shape fell from the sky with bright dominance colours flashing from its wings. The prey scattered before the avian, which paused to disgorge guard-animal forms in thick carapaces and bearing short blunt weapons. The newcomers fanned out and claimed the ground, driving away the herd and marking out their territory before sweeping into the Warren in packs. Slowly the herd broke up and moved on, save for a few who lingered looking for scraps, but still the Lictor did not move. It sat utterly still and unmoving, waiting as the guard-animals swept the territory and completely missed its vantage high above. These animals were not the ones it wanted and its instincts told it to stay still for now.

It did not have to wait for long, soon there was a rumble and a blocky lump on tracks came into sight, pushing through the herds with loud wails to drive the prey aside. The Lictor had never seen such a thing but pre-programmed instincts told it that its true target had finally arrived. The thing screeched to a halt and out poured warrior-animals in carapaces, these were the ones it had been waiting for, the female guard of the Leader-Beast. The Female stomped right up to the guard-animals, who parted before them in deference to their dominant postures. One of them wore shiny materials on its carapace and was bleating at its pack in a high pitched tone, clearly the alpha female of this group.

Silently the Lictor stirred from its perch and slithered down to the ground, shifting its chameleonic skin as it did so to stay unobserved. The females had disappeared inside the warren so the Lictor approached from the side, the lesser guard-animals were circling the outside but it was a simple matter to slip by and not one of them saw it pass. It quickly scaled the warren once more and slipped back inside the same way it had previously, emerging into the same nest. Here it paused and felt the floor, sensing the vibrations of heavy feet passing close by. The females were sweeping the warren and its superior senses told it that there was a pair coming this way. Swiftly the Lictor took up position above the entrance and held still, waiting for the threat to close. There was the crump of feet outside and a pause, then the handle twitched and the door opened just as the Lictor acted.

Two enlarged scything talons stabbed down, smashing through the carapace of the first female and ripping out its back before it knew the Lictor was there. The second acted commendably fast, raising its weapon but the bulk of its packmate blocked its eyeline and it could not draw a target. The Lictor swung its claws across, using the dead female like a club to knock the second aside. The weight of it hurled the female into the wall and it staggered for a moment, that was all the Lictor needed to jump forward and engulf the head in its mouth tendrils and rip it clean off. There was no time to feast for the crump of heavy feet announced the coming of more females, closing in from all directions. The first to emerge was the Alpha female, bearing a long claw that spat energy all around.

The Lictor instantly leapt at it, closing with a speed that should have rendered the prey stunned and shocked. The Alpha however reacted with surprising speed, swinging its claw to tear a great chunk out of the Lictor's hide. The Lictor screeched but did not slow down, ducking back before the follow up blow, then pouncing forward with its claws extended. The next few seconds were a blur of hacking and slashing attacks, both creatures fighting with eye-watering speed and remarkable strength. Both clawed and hacked at each other with insane fury, but neither could land a killing blow.

The Alpha female barked mewling noises at the Lictor, but it only hissed in reply, whatever meanings implied being lost on both of them. Then the female made a single great swing with its claw, the Lictor contorted inhumanly to duck the blow and when it rose up its mouth was open to spit a spray of chemicals right into the Alpha's face.

The Alpha fell back screaming, its hands going to its face in agony as the chemicals burned away the skin. The Lictor could have taken the moment to kill the female, but instead it fell back, leaping away from the fight in one great bound. A salvo of blasts followed it from the rest of the pack but it dove back into the deserted nest and scrambled up the vent with skittering movements. As the mewls and bellows of the animals chased it the Lictor emerged onto the roof and scurried away, easily avoiding the sweeping search beams looking for it. There was no sense of triumph or loss in its mind, only the next action that the Hive Mind required.

The Alpha female had been marked now, and surely would return to the Leader-Beast. All the Lictor had to do was follow the pheromone trail and its target would have nowhere to hide.


	19. Chapter 19

**Fame Cimex Chapter 19**

On the battlebarge Thunderlord, the Masters of the Storm Heralds were meeting once more, the Captains and leaders of the Chapter gathered to discuss their next course of action. With them sat Shade-Seer Imix whose appearance had been a most welcome surprise, as were the six squads of Smoke Jaguars that he had brought with him. Sixty Space Marines, whole worlds had fallen to less, yet what no one was saying was that against the Tyranids it was hard to see what difference they could make.

Sitting in the chair of Third Company Captain Toran was watching proceedings and considering the significance of their new guests. The Smoke Jaguars were a strange and exotic breed of Astartes, descended from the XIXth Legion and bearing a feral, primitive mien. Yet in complete contrast to the Storm Heralds their reputation was shining, a litany of deeds testifying to their ardent need to prove their worth and none could doubt their commitment. No one, not even the most fervent Emperor-Worshippers wanted to offend the Chief Librarian of so honoured a Chapter; even Apothecary Lessall was silent as their visitor spoke.

Imix was telling the elaborate tale of his journey, speaking poetically about the horrors of the Warp his ship (Silent Hunter) had endured and the long slog through real space to reach this system. Finally he came to a close and Chapter Master Gorgall nodded his head respectfully as he said, "We thank you for that Shade-Seer, it was most informative. I take it then that we are truly in the Shadow of the Hive Mind now?"

Imix confirmed this by saying, "Of that there can be no doubt, even now I can hear their chittering claws and gnashing fangs. A million, billion hungry voices screaming as one, they scratch at my mental walls even as we sit here."

Toran was slightly unnerved by the psychic pronouncement, Imix was the strongest telepath he had ever heard of and if one such as he was troubled by the Tyranid's might then there was much cause for concern. Gorgall however was talking again and said, "What does this mean for our strategic situation?"

Chief Librarian Echeb lowered his head respectfully at his counterpart before activating a Hololithic display of the stellar system, one with an ugly scar carved into it in bright red: the course of the Tyranids. Echeb stated, "The splinter of the Hive Fleet advances deeper into the system as we speak, seeking Bio-Mass to feast upon. They are taking no risks but staying together, guarding the two Hive Ships in shoals of flesh. As they advance the Shadow in the Warp grows worse, we cannot send or receive messages at all."

"Reinforcements?" asked Gorgall more out of rote than any genuine expectation of a positive answer.

Echeb shook his head and said, "Impossible, all Navigation is cut off and we cannot even see the Astronomicon. As of this moment the Saint Karyl Trail no longer exists, all the Warp Routes between Segmentum Solar and Tempestus are now severed. Unless we can defeat this splinter fleet soon then the whole galactic south will fall to Hive Fleet Leviathan."

Captain Hakulo spoke up to say, "I say we carve our way through the fleet, take out the Hive Ships. Cut off the head and let the body die."

Captain Phalros rebuked him saying, "We have already discussed this, you know we cannot break through their numbers."

Hakulo had a glint in his eye as he said, "Which is why we should seize all civilian vessels in the system, pack them with explosives and convert them into Fire Ships. We could blast a path through their hordes and follow on a road paved with dead chitin."

It was Captain Maxitio who spoke up to say, "You would not get more than two or three bombs off before the Tyranids reacted, they have shown a disturbing ability to adapt and evolve to meet attacks. Let us discuss serious options, what proper spheres of defence do we have out there?"

Echeb said, "This stellar system is somewhat bare, save for the cloud scoops and geo-thermal mines on the fifth and third planets respectively, there are only monitoring outposts and light patrols. The only real bastion is the orbital defence network over Angle's Redoubt itself, which is formidable."

Captain Toran interjected, "The Imperial Navy has to head that way regardless, their fleet has been mauled, without urgent refit they will be in no shape to fight."

There was a snort of derision from the far side of the table and Chief Apothecary Lessall leaned forwards to snarl, "Pathetic mortals, they would all be dead without us!"

Gorgall looked at his chief rival and said frankly, "The battle was fierce, but thankfully we were able to turn the tide."

Lessall spat, "It should never have been necessary, those mortals should have recognised that they were out of their depth and respected our commands. If only you had possessed the steel to break that Inquisitor Zerban…"

He was cut off as Imix rapped the table sharply with an armoured knuckle and barked, "You waste words! What is done is done, let not the past distract you, focus on the path you have yet to walk."

Lessall subsided, respecting the emissary of a fellow Chapter as Gorgall said, "Sage words indeed, recriminations are useless at this point. We need to follow the example of the Primarch, give me rational Theoreticals and hard Practicals."

Phalros was the first to speak saying, "The only realistic option is to meet them over Angle's Redoubt, stand alongside the defences and the Navy and break the Xenos as they come."

Toran agreed saying, "The Minefields, defence platforms and starforts there present a true obstacle to the Tyranid foe, if we combine our guns with theirs we can hold the line."

Maxitio looked more solemn but said, "It will be bloody and costly, the Chapter will pay dearly for this, but it is the only possible option available to us."

Suddenly Captain Jossat leaned forward and said, "Not necessarily, we don't have to be there when the splinter fleet arrives."

Phalros said wearily, "Not this again, we will not abandon this world without fighting for it."

Jossat however wasn't going to be silenced and growled, "Just listen to me, I am not advocating abandoning this world, merely concentrating our might where it is best placed."

Gorgall looked at him suspiciously and said, "Explain."

Jossat pressed a rune and pulled up a representation of previous Tyranid invasions saying, "Look at what happened at Veltri, the Tyranids broke the defences then moved to consume the planet. To do this they spread out all around the orbital lanes, covering the planet evenly. Look at their dispositions; even the Tyranids don't have enough numbers to fill space itself. They must disperse widely, leaving themselves exposed and vulnerable. At this point the Hive Ships had no more than a hundred escorts around them, small enough numbers for us to take on if we attack in their moment of weakness."

Silence fell as everybody considered this, long moments passing as each Transhuman ran the calculations in their heads. Slowly Gorgall said, "Leaving the defence stations to hold the line sits ill with me, but you do have a valid point."

Toran spoke up to say, "But my Lord that will mean allowing the Tyranids to land significant swarms of troops on the surface, the Hive Cities will feel the Xeno's wrath if we allow this."

Gorgall sighed and said, "It may well be our only option at this juncture, a counterattack from the rear presents our best chance of victory. History proves that if we can destroy the Hive Ships then the Hive Mind loses control of its lesser creatures, we can pick off each swarm one by one once orbital supremacy is secured."

Toran glowered but Phalros quickly said, "We would have a far better chance at success if the Navy were to join us, do you think we can convince the Rear-Admiral that this is a viable strategy?"

Gorgall replied, "Dousmanis the Younger is committed to the fight, we can count on him. The real problems here are Zerban and Giovanni, they will scream betrayal at this plan, they will do everything they can to manipulate the Lord's Militant into opposing it."

Lessall sneered at that and said, "They should learn to respect their betters, we are the ones who will ultimately have to swing the axe to cut off the head of this beast."

Suddenly there was a snort of derision and Gorgall looked over at Imix to say, "Shade-Seer, you have something to add?"

Imix sighed loudly and sounded disappointed as he said, "Your minds are made of nothing but metal and hard geometries, all you can think of is holding lines on maps and counter-charges."

Jossat sounded annoyed as he said, "You find that to be a problem?"

Imix shook his head and said, "You think that defence is all about guns on walls and clever manoeuvres, that war is a matter of exchanging punches until one fighter falls over. That sort of thinking would send a million men to die for the sake of a mile of mud, to die for the most pointless of reasons."

That caused a stir, for the Imperium was built upon blood and sacrifice, stunning casualties were a hallmark of even the smallest of its wars. Phalros hurriedly stepped in to say, "Then what would you advise?"

Imix drew in a breath and said, "It is a poor hunter who goes charging off after his quarry, blundering about like a Mastiff after a hare. The cunning hunter does not pursue the prey at all; he positions himself near to the waterhole and waits for the game to come to him."

Everybody paused as they tried to understand what he was driving at and then Toran blurted out, "The third planet of the system, the Tyranids will pause there."

Imix looked as pleased as a teacher whose dim-witted student had just made a relevant comment and said, "Yes indeed, the last place they will stop before attacking the primary world."

Captain Maxitio though didn't seem convinced and said, "Can we be certain of this?"

Echeb replied, "The planet is barely habitable but it does support scraps of life, the Tyranids will pause there to replenish their Bio-Mass. If nothing else we can be certain of this."

Hakulo spoke up to say, "So we know where they will be, but how does that help us?"

Jossat agreed and said, "There is still a massive fleet in our way and we will have no more success breaking through it than before. What are you proposing that we do?"

Everybody paused to stare at Imix and in response, he slowly smiled.


	20. Chapter 20

**Fame Cimex Chapter 20**

The third world of the Angle's Redoubt system was a vision of hell, a broken fiery wasteland of cracked rock and spewing lava geysers. The Methane soup of an atmosphere was toxic enough to kill an unprotected man in moments, if the heat, lava and the constant earthquakes did not do it first.

This was in every way that counted a failed world, astronomically fated to die. Its mass was too small and its density too low to form a stable body, its violate core was slowly ripping it apart one earthquake at a time. In as little as a million years there would be nothing here but a broken asteroid field, a testament to a failed planet and barely a footnote in history.

That life could exist here seemed doubtful, the conditions far from ideal, but despite all that a primitive form still clung on at the marginal edges. Algae bloomed in toxic rock pools and tiny cephalopods grazed freely, while around sulphur vents molluscs and crustaceans fought for space in the tiny boundaries between broiling heat and freezing death. Such hardy life was remarkable, in a tiny unappreciated way and in a more enlightened age may have brought study and interest from afar, but in this age of darkness it was utterly ignored.

Nevertheless the faint signs of life had attracted the attention of the Tyranid race, the splinter fleet descending in droves to reap what little bounty there was to be found. Swarms of Rippers festooned the landscape, devouring all that was to be found and scouring it down to the bedrock. Not even bacterium was spared, all was taken and consumed by the Hive Mind. Their task complete the Rippers congregated around vast artificial reclamation pools, throwing themselves in to be dissolved in steaming acid baths. Around the pools Capillary towers had formed, soaring structures that rose into orbit despite their spindly appearance. Already these were sucking up the planet's bounty, conveying it into orbit for the hungry Bio-Ships to guzzle. Soon this world would be stripped bare, left a dead rock in space like so many other worlds the Tyranids had consumed. It was a process they had performed countless times since entering this galaxy, but this time it was not unobserved.

On a barren plain was a mineral extraction facility, a collection of towers and pumps that stood free and proud. It was a cluster of arcane machinery, much of it dating back to antiquity and largely Servitor operated. This site had been carefully selected for its geological stability, but so violate was the land that it still required layers of geomagnetic stabilisers, core pressure vents and harmonic compensators to prevent a catastrophe occurring.

Standing on a high metal gantry was Captain Toran, confidently poised upon the bare surface without the aid of a handrail. He was wearing his helm, for this atmosphere would have tested even a Transhuman's limits, looking out over the plains for any sign of activity. Slowly he panned his head from side to side, sweeping the area and was not entirely happy with what he was seeing. Abruptly he spun about and stepped off the gantry, falling thirty feet effortlessly in the low gravity to land in a plume of red dust. He straightened up and found himself looking upon a bevvy of activity, squads of Astartes making preparations for war. There were a variety of colours on display; half of them in Storm Herald blue the other in the dappled shades of the Smoke Jaguars. This was a joint task force, his Third Company deployed alongside the visitors and sharing the risks as one.

The combined forces had made a discrete landing on this planet several days earlier, before splitting up and heading to their objectives. There had been three targets to secure so Toran and Imix had agreed to divide their forces evenly, trusting that the brotherhood between Chapters would strengthen each force. Toran commanded this primary force, while the second was under the leadership of Sergeant Matheus, a gesture of trust and respect to those Marines who had not served under him before. The third force was under the command of a Veteran Smoke Jaguar, but Toran had sent Chaplain Wrethan along as a gesture of solidarity and trust in their cousins. Shade-Seer Imix himself had accompanied Toran's force, a situation the Captain was ambivalent about. Toran had never been comfortable around Psykers, but experience had taught him their value and he trust Imix implicitly. If nothing else he was certain that the Psyker's power, probably rating high Gamma or even the terrifying heights of a Beta level, would be needed soon.

Toran began walking through the facility, observing the squads making preparations, most of the blue-clad Astartes were new to him, their heraldry still gleaming from the new markings. He passed a Devastator squad lugging missile launchers and Heavy Bolters into elevated positions and then an Assault Squad, testing their chainsword mechanisms. It seemed odd to him to be commanding Marines he did not know well at all, the new influx had placed immense demands on him and left little time for personal chats. Toran was beginning to understand why Captains always seemed so distant from those they commanded, a gulf was growing between him and the ranks, one that set him apart in more ways than one.

Toran was reassured though when he spied his Command Squad standing guard at the perimeter, Furion, Novak, Bylan, Jediah, Persion and Apothecary Memnos, all locked in animated discussion. Toran strode up to them and heard the distinct clicks of voxs chattering, he opened his own link and said, "Care to tell me what's so interesting?"

Brother Persion answered, "We were just debating whether this plan can actually work."

Toran asked, "Is there any doubt?"

Brother Jediah replied, "If we were confident, then why did no Tech-Priests accompany us?"

Sergeant Furion answered, "Three reasons, one the Techmarines are quite capable, two the Cogboys are hardly sneaky enough to slip by unnoticed and three the Mechanicus would pitch a fit if we asked them to make the modifications necessary to the Machine Spirits."

Toran stated, "Which is why we sent Magos Castabore on with the rest of the fleet, we can handle this by ourselves."

Novak spoke up to say, "What I want to know is if we will get to see any action this time."

Apothecary Memnos rebuked him, "This mission depends upon stealth, if we wish to succeed we need to go unobserved as long as possible."

Novak replied, "Sneaking about is for our cousins, we should be slaughtering Xenos!"

Toran stated, "I would not worry on that front, I suspect we will be seeing plenty of bloodshed before this is over."

Jediah spoke up to say, "You think the Xenos will notice us here?"

Toran answered, "I am certain of it, the Techmarine's activity is hardly subtle and will draw notice. The Techmarines in all three groups are working hard but time is short, no matter what we must buy them the time they need to finish the job. The Imperium demands that this facility must not fall."

Bylan was holding the Company Standard proudly, the fabric-metal shimmering in the chemical-laden atmosphere, and he said in his mechanical wheeze, "+Captain, how did you come up with this idea?+"

Toran had a reputation for unorthodox thinking, but he honestly replied, "I didn't, this was all Imix's scheme."

That made everybody pause and take a blink, to fight alongside another Chapter was one thing but to let them dictate strategy was another altogether. Persion sounded startled and said, "You didn't mention that in the briefing."

Novak piped up to say, "He probably didn't want to hear Mylos' moaning about it all the way here."

That made everybody chuckle, Sergeant Mylos had appointed himself Company Naysmith and was fond of pointing out flaws in the Captain's plans. Toran personally believed it to be a step up from their previous, acrimonious relationship but even so still found it wearying. Nevertheless there was a line between comradery and openly disparaging a decorated Sergeant so the Captain changed the subject saying, "Persion, any word from the other strike groups?"

The communication specialist replied, "None, but they were only to break Vox silence if they ran into trouble. No news is good news. And before you ask there nothing from the Silent Hunter either, she's busy pretending to be a hole in space up there, with luck the Tyranids won't notice her at all."

Jediah snorted in derision and spat, "You have clearly failed to notice how our luck usually turns out."

Furion crossed his arms and stated boldly, "Astartes do not believe in luck, we grab destiny with both hands and forge our own fate."

Toran was glad to hear the firm reminder and said, "True words my friend, I am glad to see you have lost none of your steel. Now has anyone seen Imix?"

Everybody shook their heads and Bylan replied, "+He said he needed to meditate, something about the Hive Mind pressing upon his mental defences+"

Toran sighed at the mysteries of the Psyker's art and said, "Well keep alert for danger, the Tyranids could notice our presence at any moment. Persion keep that beacon handy, we will need a swift extraction once the Techmarines are finished."

The squad saluted with a clenched fist over the heart and Toran moved on, seeing another squad hunkered down in cover and scanning the horizon. It was Sergeant Priyar's tactical squad, the only members of the old formation Toran had brought with him. Priyar was gripping a power maul, engraved with Litanies of Detestation, tightly and sweeping the perimeter.

Toran walked up to him and said, "Anything to report?"

Priyar's autosenses must have detected the Captain's approach for he did not sound surprised as he said, "Auspex is detecting a lot of movement out there, the Tyranids can't be far off."

Toran replied, "I know, the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up."

Priyar didn't look away from the horizon but still said, "Having Psychic premonitions now... Should I report you to the Librarians for taint?"

Toran sighed at the jest and said, "Don't you start, I get enough of that from my Command squad."

Priyar tilted his head fractionally and said, "All this time I thought you liked an informal company, but now you go and lose your sense of humour. Soon you'll be as humourless as the late Sergeant Starn."

Toran chuckled at that, their late First Company sergeant had been grim and unyielding in all matters, especially familiarity in the ranks. Toran smiled under his helm and said, "I don't think I could insert the stick far enough up my rear to achieve that, besides who said duty has to be grim?"

Priyar replied, "Not me, once we destroy these beasts I am looking forward to being carried through the streets on the shoulders of cheering citizens."

Toran knew the Sergeant was joking but still the image made him shake his head, he opened his mouth to query the likelihood of that but sudden one of the Squad hissed, "Contact!" Instantly all thoughts of camaraderie were buried, the Astartes' mind snapping into focus like a well-oiled machine. Toran stepped forwards and magnified his autosenses, boosted considerably by his Augmetic eye and gasped at what he saw. The horizon was seething with blurry shapes, skittering mounds of flesh and claws that heaved and undulated like one living thing. The distant sky was silhouetted by fanged, chitin clad beasts, running on hoofs and spikes of bone while dark flapping shapes wheeled and soared overhead. Dotted amongst the mass were singular forms, much larger than their brethren, bulky and hunched over as they ran. Toran instantly recognised them as the terrifying forms of Carnifex's, Tyrant Guards and the nightmarish shape of a Hive Tyrant. They were headed this way and moving fast.

The Captain opened his vox wide for all to hear and called, "All squads to arms, hold the line and do not let the foe advance. The Tyranids have found us!"


	21. Chapter 21

**Fame Cimex Chapter 21**

Over the broken and cracked plain the Tyranids came, a heaving undulating mass of flesh, claws and chitin. They hissed as they ran, the Hive Mind stoking a terrible hunger in their alien minds, urging them on to feast. The Tyranids had claimed this world as their own and they would let nothing stand against them, all must fall to the Great Devourer.

Waiting to greet them was a thin line of Transhuman resistance, standing resolutely in the face of overwhelming might. The Space Marines of two Chapters waited stoically, gripping their weapons tightly and taking aim at the onrushing horde. Amongst them was Captain Toran, standing with his Command Squad and watching the Xenos closing the distance, mentally counting down the time until they crossed into weapons range. He felt a presence at his side and turned to see Imix had arrived, the Shade-Seer looked tired and weary. Even under his helm he was slumped and appeared to be leaning on his staff for support, he almost looked like he had been battling for days already. Toran spared a moment to open a private vox link and said, "Imix, are you hale?"

The telepath answered, "The Hive Mind tears at my soul, a multitude of gnawing, biting horrors clawing at my mind. I have faced Daemons who were less rapacious."

Toran was concerned and said, "Can you fight?"

Imix replied resolutely, "I am not dead yet."

Toran returned his attention to the front and saw that the Tyranids had closed the distance, skittering almost into range. He drew a breath from his armour's supply then ordered, "Heavy Weapons, take aim… and fire!" Instantly a spray of Missiles and Heavy Bolter rounds erupted, raining down from the Devastators in their elevated positions and the Tactical Squads on the line. The rounds impacted with the oncoming hordes, throwing bits of bodies up into the air to shower down as gore. Carapaces were torn open and spider-like limbs ripped free to trip bodies into the dust, but the Tyranids cared not. The swarm swept on, trampling their wounded into the ground with heedless disdain as they pressed onwards. Again the Heavy weapons spoke and again, each time blasting holes into the swarm, but not slowing its advance. Then the Tyranids swept into bolter range and Toran raised his own weapon crying, "All squads, Rapid Fire!"

The line lit up with a crescendo of mass reactive rounds, bolt rounds surging forth to blast apart smaller beasts and trip larger ones. The Swarm swelled with noise, hissing and snarling loudly as the front ranks disappeared in a froth of ichor. Hormagaunts leapt high to avoid the salvo but they were swatted out of the air, while Warriors were bracketed and ripped asunder by concentrated fire. The swarm pressed on, determined to reach the Space Marines, but the concentrated fire held them at bay.

Toran was panning his Master-Crafted bolter back and forth, each burst cutting down a leaping form as all around him the squads poured on fire. It was like firing into a living wall, the sheer mass of flesh rolling forward and no matter how many the Space Marines slew the Xenos just kept on coming. From his side Persion growled, "Warp Hells, how many of them are there?"

Toran barked, "Keep firing, give them no respite!"

Toran swiftly reloaded and when he brought his aim back up he saw a Warrior form break out from the line, racing forwards with a bonesword raised. He swung his muzzle around and took careful aim, his hand as calm and steady as if he were on the firing range. A gentle squeeze of the trigger and a familiar jolt to his shoulder announced his Bolter discharging, sending three rounds soaring away on contrails of fire. The trio of bolts caught the Warrior on the head, its carapace deflected two of them but the third penetrated and blew the Xeno's brains out. Toran didn't hesitate but swung his weapon around again, firing once more. As he fired he opened his vox to the distant Techmarines and called, "Hevostan, tell me you are finished."

A crackle of static hissed for a second and then a voice came back, "Negative Captain, our efforts have not yet reached fruition."

Toran gritted his teeth and yelled, "Make haste then, we are under attack!"

The Techmarine called back, "I assure we are not taking our leisure here either, we will inform you the second we are done!"

Toran returned his attention to the fight and saw that the Tyranids were pressing forward, despite all their losses the swarm was too numerous to be stopped entirely. The Space Marines could not hope to stop the swarm, merely delay its advance.

Suddenly the skies darkened and flocks of Gargoyles descended on flapping leathery wings and carrying symbiotic weapons in their claws, with tendrils burrowing into the meat and bone of the host creature. Wide bore muzzles convulsed and spat living ammunition at the ground, fat beetles with oversized jaws whose only function in life was to chew and rend all they encountered. As the fat rounds fell upon the armoured shapes of Space Marines, Toran saw the danger of the foe falling upon their rear and he roared, "Devastators, raise your aim!"

Instantly the Heavy support troopers swung their guns upwards, blasting missiles and Heavy Bolter rounds up into the sky. The Gargoyles were caught in a deadly barrage, blasted out of the sky by storms of blazing rounds and exploding Frag blasts. Monstrous horrors fell in droves with torn wings and bleeding bodies, destroyed by the might of the Space Marines, yet they had served their fell purpose. By dividing their firepower the Astartes had slackened their torrent towards the swarm and the Tyranids saw the onslaught diminish. Instantly the swarm pressed forwards, hurling their bodies across the ground in great leaping bounds. Toran saw the sudden surge of movement and redoubled his fire yelling, "Hold the line brothers, we must buy the Techmarines more time!"

The Space Marines poured on their fire, smashing the swarm with all the might at their disposal. The monstrous horde kept coming but the Astartes held true, firing relentlessly in a display of courage and skill that would have been worthy of any saga told on the high feast days. The Astartes refused to yield an inch, blazing away with every weapon as the Company Standard flew high and Brother Bylan cried, "+The Alien is an obscenity in the sight of the Emperor!+"

Toran roared in response, "Send these monsters back into the abyss that spawned them!"

Sergeant Furion took up the cry shouting, "Abhor the Alien. Hate the Alien, Kill the Alien!"

The Space Marines roared their fury over the vox waves, making their battle more than just another battle in the endless litany of war. This was mankind's contempt for the Xeno writ large, a testament to humanity's Manifest Destiny to command the stars made real. They poured on everything they had, blasting back the Tyranid hordes in droves. This was the most delicate of balances, the endless alien swarm against the steel of humanity, bottomless hunger pitted against courage and faith. Despite all the odds the Space Marines were holding the line and for a moment it looked like they might break the horde, but then Imix cried out in pain and roared, "Beware my kin, the Hive Mind manifests!"

Toran snapped his head around and saw what the Shade-Seer had sensed approaching, floating over the heads of the swarm was a sinuous elongated form. It moved without touching the ground, surrounded by a shimmering halo of eldritch energy and had a shark-like grin pasted over its face: a Zoanthrope. Before anyone could react arcs of green lightning sparked around the Zoanthrope's head and it opened its jaws wide in a hideous parody of mirth. A salvo of bolts and missiles arced towards it but all of them defected off the shimmering shield and beast was unharmed. The power built for a second and then there was an incandescent flash as the energy arced outwards to land amongst the Astartes' line.

There was a flare of green fire and a heat that could be felt even through power armour as bodies were flung into the air in pieces, coming down in chunks to rain ceramite down to the ground. The line shivered but did not break as Apothecary Memnos hurried over, to save those he could and reclaim the Gene-seed from those he could not. Meanwhile the Zoanthrope undulated closer and power began to build up around it again, Toran raised his aim and bellowed, "Bring it down!"

A torrent of bolts and missiles hurtled out from the line saturating the creature with fire but the shimmering shield held firm and not one shot landed. The green lightning began to build up once more and Toran turned to Imix, desperate for anything to halt the coming blast, but he was shocked by what he saw. The Librarian had fallen to his knees, and was shaking like a leaf in the wind. He had both hands clasped around his the haft of his staff, clinging to it for dear life and his head jerked back and forth in denial. His armour was covered in psychic hoarfrost and his agony was obvious at a glance. Toran bit back his concern and pressed himself to shout, "Shade-Seer, the Zoanthrope comes, we need your strength!"

Imix's voice was wracked with agony, every syllable forced out between clenched teeth as he groaned, "I cant, I can't… they're too strong. A million knives in my ears, a billion claws in my eyes: they're eating my mind from the inside out!"

Toran glanced back at the Zoanthrope and saw it was mere seconds from unleashing another blast. The Captain knew Imix was their only chance to prevent a catastrophe but he could not even stand. Toran's mind ran through a thousand litanies and mantras of purity looking for something to get the Librarian back up and fighting, but nothing he could say would do. There was no platitude to help, nothing he could think of that the Shade-Seer did not already know and Toran knew that they were all doomed.

Then it hit him: the one thing he could say that he personally knew would get the Librarian back up on his feet. Toran opened his mouth and roared, "Imix... you are about to fail!"

Imix's head snapped up, the accusation cutting right to the heart of him. Every Astartes was conditioned from the moment of indoctrination to abhor failure, it was the essence of weakness and not one Marine in the galaxy would willingly suffer such a thing to exist. It was the bedrock of their nature that weakness must be excised and that compared to failure, death was but a hollow phantom, pain less than nothing.

Imix roared inhumanely as the dams on his psychic might were let slip, he rose from the ground with arcs of lightning spraying from every joint and seam of his armour, the air itself vibrating with his potency. His feet lifted off the ground and he hovered on a thermal of Warp energy, surrounded by a crackling nimbus of power. His right hand shot forward and the Zoanthrope froze in place, convulsing in pain. Imix howled like a predatory hunter at the moment of the kill and slowly, inexorably closed his hand into a tight fist.

The Zoanthrope screamed in agony as its mind was ravaged, torn apart by the psychic might of the Space Marine. Its Warp energies ran amok and began tearing it apart, destroying it with its own power. As Imix crushed its mind the power ran through its body, making its already bulbous brain swell and expanded like a balloon filled with too much water. Then in a sickening burst of ichor and lighting the Zoanthrope burst, spraying gore all over its kin.

As Imix sank incoherently to the ground the swarm faltered, the loss of a Synapse creature making the creatures cower back. Toran thought for a moment that they had defeated the Tyranids entirely, but then the swarm parted and a fresh foe emerged. A hideous monster larger and more deadly than any other creature, the embodiment of the Hive Mind and the sum total of its hatred and hunger brought to life.

The Hive Tyrant had come.


	22. Chapter 22

**Fame Cimex Chapter 22**

The Tyranids came on in a heaving tide of claws and chitin, maws wide and claws held high in readiness to feast. They were an avalanche of flesh, a living natural disaster come to level all before them. In the heart of the swarm was the Hive Tyrant, towering over the lesser monsters and driving them forwards, the living link to the Hive Mind urging them to obliterate all that stood before them.

Against this tide of horror stood a thin line of resistance, the Transhuman Astartes laying down torrents of firepower. They hosed the oncoming horde with deadly salvos of rounds, they were preternaturally accurate and their weapons slew all they targeted. They exploded Gaunts, blasted Warriors and even took down Carnifexs with concentrated volleys of shooting.

It didn't matter.

The Tyranids came on regardless, ignoring their casualties and racing over their dead, trampling the wounded under their hooves. Their maws chomped in anticipation and their claws extended in eagerness to rend and tear as they raced into the teeth of overwhelming firepower. The Hive mind was in the heads of each and every one and it held the life of its own spawn as less than nothing.

Standing in the line Captain Toran could see the oncoming swarm and the inescapable truth that the Astartes could not hold them back for much longer. He spied the Hive Tyrant, a hideous creature with a pair of scything talons, a bone sword and a fleshy whip in its alien hands. Toran realised that this being was the reason for the Tyranid's insane courage, that as long as it lived then this battle could not be won. There was only one option left: the Hive Tyrant must fall. Toran looked out upon the swarm and saw hundreds of beasts between the Astartes and the Synapse creature, too many to charge through. Instantly he made a decision and cried, "All squads, target the area before the Tyrant, clear out the throng!"

A torrent of firepower shifted to hit the swarm right at the front, a horizontal hail of rounds that decimated all before it. Like a threshing machine moving through a ripe crop the storm scythed down everything before it, leaving a corridor of dead beasts aiming towards the Hive Tyrant. Toran saw they had a few seconds before the swarm surged back to fill the gap and cried, "Tactical and Devastator squads hold this line, Assault Squad follow my Command Squad into the heart of the foe!"

As he issued his order Toran was already leaping the barricades, drawing his Relic blade as he did so. His squad followed him without hesitation, Furion, Novak, Bylan, Jediah and Persion all hot on his heels. They charged into the gap, as lines of bolt rounds passed either side of them, holding back the lesser beasts with walls of destruction. The squad raced forwards, unwavering in their quest to cut out the heart of the swarm but the Tyranids were equally determined to meet them. A surge of flesh heralded the swarm pushing hundreds of Gaunts forwards, losing scores of beasts to the blazing volleys still raining down on their heads. Yet with sheer numbers the tide broke through, racing to intercept the few warriors forging a path into the heart of the Tyranids, their numbers were stunning and this fight would be short indeed.

Yet a second before the first Gaunt could reach them a shadow flashed over the blood-red sky and a roar of thrusters announced the descent of the Assault squad. They fell from the heavens with chainswords racing and bolt pistols blazing, hitting the ground like meteor strikes that threw showers of dirt up into the air and crushed Gaunts underfoot. With a righteous cry, the Space Marines hurled themselves into battle, rending and tearing with roaring weapons that swiftly became coated in ichor. Claws scrapped at their armour and fangs broke on their vambraces yet the Astartes were resolute and fought on, holding back the tide with the strength and fortitude worthy of true heroes.

Toran saw their battle and a part of him longed to stand with them, though he knew little more than their names they were stalwart champions of the Chapter. Yet a cold, detached part of his mind told him he could not do so, this was not the true battle and unless he reached the Hive Tyrant this fight was meaningless. He cried, "Push on Brothers, we must cut out the heart of the swarm!"

The command squad pressed on and swiftly they approached the towering monstrosity that was the Tyrant. This close the true hideousness of the creature was obvious, its hide mottled and pitted by countless wars and its fangs as long as man's arms. It was surrounded by a shimmering aura of psychic power, a haze that lent in an indescribable horror that would stop a man's heart just to look upon it. Yet the Astartes were made to be immune to such paltry terrors, to them dread and horror were but the rush of adrenaline that made them sharper and quicker. Fear did not slow them down, it only made them deadlier.

They gripped their weapons tighter and Persion growled, "That thing so needs to die!"

Toran raised his sword high and cried, "With me Brothers, For Terra and the memory of Roboute Guilliman!"

The squad charged forth with weapons held ready but the Hive Tyrant did not rush to greet them, instead it stepped back and a pair of lesser but still bulky creatures raced forwards. Furion shouted, "Tyrant Guards!" as the looming forms leapt to intercept them. With a terrible screech the battle was joined, chitin claws set against shining steel, carapace hides against ceramite armour. The battle descended into a frenzy of hacking, slashing blows and the Marines could not see more than a few feet in any direction. The Tyrant Guards were brutal beasts, built to give and receive damage in extraordinary amounts, but the squad fought back with all they had. Furion ejected his bolter's magazine and slipped in a special one, the rare Hellfire rounds which were specially designed for Tyranid foes. He blazed at the nearest guard and the impacts scored its hide, unleashing thousands of microscopic needles laced with mutagenic acids.

The guard quivered and shook as the acid ate into its hide and raised an arm to block the rounds. In that moment Persion leapt in, wielding a red-hot Friction Axe and smashed it into the Guard's side. Vile ichor ran freely and Persion drew back his axe once more, then he swung his arm and caved in the guard's skull.

Meanwhile Bylan was fending off the second guard, using the Adamantium haft of the banner like a quarterstaff, blocking and parrying the onslaught of claws. The Guard growled and brought down its claws, Bylan blocked horizontally but the force of the blow forced him to his knees. The Guard hissed in anticipation of the kill but at that moment Jediah intervened, diving in from behind to attack its exposed rear. His Fractal edged blade flashed and in two swift strokes, he had hamstrung the Guard, severing alien tendons and sinews with perfect precision.

The Guard sprawled in the dirt as it tried to understand what had happened and before it could react Novak leapt high to land upon its back. He rode the bucking beast like a circus performer standing on an equine back and held his sword high. Then in one swift move he plunged his sword down, penetrating right under the base of the skull and severing the spinal cord to leave the Tyranid dying in the dust.

While all this had been occurring Toran was confronted by the Hive Tyrant itself, the mighty creature looming over him and blocking out the sun. The Tyrant's strength was obvious but its speed was equally potent and before the Captain could strike it was lashing forward, attacking from left and right with its bonesword and whip. Toran desperately fended off the sword but felt the whip smash into his side, breaking a rib within his enhanced chest, had he been mortal his heart would have been caved in at the first blow. The Tyrant attacked again, using its scything claws to stab down and attacking with its weapons simultaneously. Toran fell back, desperately parrying the attacks, trying to stay alive in the face of overwhelming fury. The creature was swift and skilled, presenting no pattern of attacks and keeping the Captain off balance at all times. Toran was under attack from four directions at once, he was only thankful that the bulk of the Tyrant kept its tail out of the equation.

He parried and dodged as best he was able, but was incapable of striking back, totally on the defensive. He fended off a swing from the bonesword with his relic blade but then both scything claws stuck, plunging down from above right at his head. Toran saw the attack coming but one second before they hit there was a flash of light and the attack was deflected as it met his Iron Halo's energy field. The Tyrant staggered back, momentarily off balance and in that moment Toran struck. He stabbed out with his sword and cut the Tyrant across the gut, letting vile ichor spill from a gash in its belly. Any other foe would have been put on the back foot by such a blow but the Tyrant was no ordinary opponent. In an instant the whip hurtled forward and wrapped itself around and around the Captain, crushing him in its embrace. Toran gasped for air as his broken ribs ground into his lungs and he felt himself being lifted high, the whip raising him head first towards the Tyrant's maw. The mouth opened wide in readiness to bite his head off and Toran stared into the abyss of death, but he wasn't finished yet.

Toran's arms were trapped, but what the Tyrant had failed to realise was that his bolter was still attached to its strap and the grip was but an inch from the Captain's hand. Toran snarled in fury and heaved with all his might to move his arm one inch and grab the weapon in his hand. There was a moment's pause and then a single bolt round exploded at point-blank range, cracking the bolter's barrel but also breaking the whip's grip. The pressure on Toran eased for an instant and he roared as his other arm broke free, bringing his sword up right at the open maw of the Tyrant. He bellowed, "This is for Captain Laryen!" then thrust upwards, driving the Sword of Thiel into the open maw, right into the Tyrant's braincase and out the other side. All fell silent for a single moment, the Captain and the monster locked in a deadly embrace and then the Hive Tyrant sagged and toppled backwards, falling limp in death.

The Captain found himself shaken loose and he hit the ground hard, flexing his knees to absorb the impact even as the Tyrant sprawled limply with a puddle of gore spreading from its skull. Toran staggered back and gasped for breath, holding one arm to his side where he could feel something moving within his chest. His Transhuman body burned hot where his implants struggled to repair the damage and the oxygen debt was making his vision blacken around the edges.

Toran spared a second to glance about and saw that with the death of the Tyrant the swarm had lost its connection to the Hive Mind. They were milling around in confusion, acting in a bestial manner, leaping at each other in a feeding frenzy or fleeing instinctively from the guns on the line. It was an epic victory, one that against any other foe would have utterly broken them, but he knew that the Tyranids would reform in minutes and return.

Toran's vox bead tickled and he heard a voice saying, "Hear me… By the Cog, Captain can you hear me?"

Toran opened his link and called, "This is Captain Toran, Hevostan is that you?"

The voice came back, "Finally… Captain preparations are complete, we have to evacuate now!"

Toran wasted not a second to call, "All squads fall back immediately and prepare to withdraw, Persion raise the Silent Hunter, tell her we need immediate Teleport Extraction!"


	23. Chapter 23

**Fame Cimex Chapter 23**

The Teleportarium of the Silent Hunter was a place of frantic activity, with giant cooling stack spilling vapours and bulky machines spitting sparks randomly. Everywhere Engineseers and Tech-Priests rushed to and fro hastily blessing the arcing machines and chanting soothing litanies to ease their spirits. Standing upon the great circular platform was a group of Space Marines, battered and worn from battle. Their weapons were blackened from heavy use and many of them had rent armour and bleeding wounds. These were the survivors of the battle on the planet below and they carried the scars to prove it. Among the living there were the bodies of the slain, carried away from the war zone on the shoulders of Brothers. The Astartes were loathe to leave their dead on such a terrible world and the armour of the fallen must be reclaimed for the next generation.

Standing upon the platform Captain Toran surveyed his warriors, seeing Shade-Seer Imix being carried between two of his brethren, the exertion of his psychic powers having drained him utterly. Toran looked about to count the living and the fallen and it irked him that he knew the dead so poorly. He resolved to make a greater effort to understand the entirety of Third Company in the future, yet that was a problem for later, for now there was work to be done.

The Space Marines shuffled off the platform and Bylan was shaking his head saying, "+I hate Teleportation+"

Persion agreed saying, "Give me a Gunship any day."

Toran left them behind as he saw the figure of Chaplain Wrethan standing at the far wall, he strode over and said, "Father, are we all recovered?"

Wrethan replied, "Yes, yours was the last group back, the ship is making preparations to withdraw."

Toran nodded and said, "Take charge of regrouping the Company, I have to get Imix to the bridge."

Wrethan nodded and began gathering up the squads, directing them onwards. Toran turned to his command squad and said, "Come with me, we shall escort Imix to his bridge."

Imix however shook off the supporting arms and said, "I can walk, the day I have to be carried is the day they inter my bones in my tomb."

Toran was glad to hear the fire returning to the Shade-Seer's voice and followed him out of the chamber, pointedly ignoring the slight wobble in the Librarian's gait. The squad hurried onwards, passing serf crewmen in the colours of the Smoke Jaguars who were rushing to and fro. As they ran the ship rumbled with the familiar vibration of reactors awakening and the distinct tremors of plasma reactors stirring to life. Soon they approached the bridge and hurried into the long nave-like space to find crewmen and servitors noisily preparing the ship to move. A serf on the command dais saw them coming and hastily bowed, stepping off so Imix could mount the pulpit. The Shade-Seer hesitated when he saw the large step and turned to Toran saying, "Captain would you care to join me?"

Toran recognised what he was really requesting and bowed low as if being granted high honour. He stepped up and surreptitiously took Imix's elbow, assisting him onto the dais. The Librarian gripped the railing a little too tightly and called, "Status report."

The serf had moved to the foot of the dais and said in a thick accent, "Reactors are being flash woken, we can beseech the Spirits for motive power in twelve minutes."

Imix nodded and said, "Show me local space."

The Hololith stirred to life and projected a three-dimensional image of the surrounding vectors. Toran squinted at it, for it resembled a blizzard, every inch covered in Tyranid Bio-ships. They were squatting in low orbit, tethered to capillary towers and guzzling Biomass from the planet below, yet that was not the most disturbing thing. What truly disturbed everybody was the planet itself, for it was writhing with energy, magnetic fields and geology in obscene flux. Before their eyes the planet was quivering and shaking, like an animal being sick. Earthquakes were rippling across continents while whole mountain ranges erupted into fire, thousands of miles of ground shaking and bucking as terrible forces went to work. It looked like the whole planet was on fire, seething with energy and spewing lava plumes as pressure built within the core and shockwaves multiplied below the surface. This was the result of the Space Marine's labours, their efforts to upset a delicate balance of forces and initiate a catastrophic chain reaction that could not be stopped.

Toran asked, "Do we know how long this will take?"

Furion answered, "Impossible to say, it could be hours or days till we see the culmination of this."

Persion however raised his arm and pointed at the great oculus viewportal at the end of the nave as he cried, "Or it could happen right now!"

Everybody turned to see what was going on and gasped at the sight, for the view outside was staggering. Before their eyes volcanic eruptions were exponentially multiplying in fury and power, spilling molten rock into low orbit where they flash froze into jagged shards of rock. Continental plates were cracking up and bobbing like rafts on a rapid river, unleashing more volcanoes that lifted chunks of planet the size of nations into space on columns of raging elemental fury. This was the culmination of the Astartes' labours, a process that should have taken a million years to climax compressed into a few hours.

The Hololith dissolved into raw static and the only way to see what was occurring was to look out of the Oculus. Imix gasped, "Engines, ENGINES!"

The serf replied in horror, "My Lord, we have only partial power available."

Imix growled, "At this point, ill take whatever I can get."

Slowly the Silent Hunter stirred to life and sluggishly moved out, the movement and power should have attracted the Tyranids in droves, but they had problems of their own. Everywhere The Tyranids were beset by hurtling debris, shards of cooling rock and chunks of planet that were being blown into space. They hurriedly broke free from their tethers and tried to race for space, but they were too slow and the debris field was too thick to avoid. Bio-ships were being battered by flying rocks and smashed by ascending debris, crushed and broken by giga-tonnes of stone that filled space. Many beasts were impacted by boulders the size of mountains, crushing them and obliterating them with uncaring disdain, one ship was even caught between two colliding boulders and was ground to paste. Even those who avoided a direct impact did not escape unscathed, pierced by millions of pieces of tiny stone, ripping out their guts with a thousand cuts.

On the bridge of the Silent Hunter all was bedlam, the ship vibrating with micro-impacts as the crew frantically rushed to and fro in an effort to find a safe route out. Imix was staring out of the Oculus and he spied two spinning masses of rock right in their path, he cried, "Take us between them, all power to the drives!"

As the Silent Hunter sluggishly drove through the narrow gap Persion called, "Shouldn't we raise the shields?"

Imix replied, "They would be useless, better to divert all power to the thrusters!"

Everybody held their breaths as the Strike Cruiser slipped through, passing perilously close to the masses on either side. The sense of relief was palpable but what waited on the other side took their breath away. Silhouetted in the Oculus was a massive Hive Ship, miles long with trailing tendrils and orifices that spat lesser beasts. It was a behemoth of the void, a monster that had killed whole worlds but right now it was writhing in pain and fighting to live.

Halfway through its thorax was a jagged spear of rock, thrown up from the planet to impale its belly like a reef tearing out the bottom of a boat. The Tyranid creature writhed and twisted in an attempt to break free but the lance of stone was buried too deeply within it to shake loose. The Hive Ship thrashed and convulsed but all it managed to do was drive the spear deeper and deeper, tearing its thorax apart. With a sudden lurch the spear broke out the side of the beast, spilling an ocean of ichor into the void and leaving it held together only by threads of sinew. The beast quivered in agony and then the sinews gave way as the Hive Ship tore itself into two, then it finally died and went still.

The bridge erupted into cheers and Bylan roared, "+See how it dies!+"

Jediah roared even louder, "Glorious, just glorious!"

But it was Novak who called, "Look out!" as a shadow fell over the Oculus.

Spinning in space a massive chunk of the planet heaved into view, a continental mass the size of a nation thrown into space with molten lava still clinging to its edges. It filled the Oculus from end to end and it was obviously on a collision course. Imix roared, "Turn you fools, TURN!" Slowly the Silent Hunter began to come about, trying to evade the looming collision. Thrusters fired and engines roared as the Strike Cruiser fought to evade but it was too sluggish in the turn and its momentum drove it forward too fast to get out of the way. Everybody saw the impact was coming and all knew they would not survive it as Novak yelled, "We're not going to make it!"

Toran saw that he was right, the ship was locked in its course and the distance was closing too fast to make the turn, unless they could slow drastically they would all die. Before he even knew what he was doing Toran yelled, "Open the forward hanger doors, vent the Thunderhawk bay!" Instantly the crew obeyed, not caring where the orders came from and the whole ship lurched as the doors slid open to vent the atmosphere. Plumes of air shot out, carrying scores of dying men with it, but the effect braked the ship hard and arrested its momentum at the critical moment. Everybody held their breath to see what effect this would have and all eyes were fixed on the Oculus.

Then suddenly hope emerged as a tiny sliver of stars appeared at the edge of the viewportal, a gap that grew and grew as the ship swung about. There was a moment of utter tension as the Silent Hunter pulled about and then the massive boulder disappeared from view as the Strike Cruiser slipped past. Toran let out a breath and looked up to see a clear corridor of space, a gap created by the mass of the rock deflecting smaller debris.

Toran turned to Imix and said, "We have a way out, as long as we stay in the shadow of that debris we can escape."

Imix nodded wearily and said, "Then let us leave these Xenos to a well-deserved fate, we will make for safe harbours and not stop until we see friendly faces once more."

With that the Silent Hunter put the dying world to her stern and powered away, leaving a planet in the throes of death. The complete destruction of this world would take at least a century to conclude but for now, it had served its purpose. Thousands of Tyranid Bio-ships had been obliterated in the tumbling debris field and the waves of destruction were reaching out for thousands more. The surviving creatures fled for deep space, seeking shelter in the blessed cold. Amongst them was the lone surviving Hive ship, sacrificing hundreds of its escorts as a living shield as it swam away with its tail tucked between its legs. Yet even a conservative estimate would see that half of the Tyranid fleet had been crushed, a victory beyond compare.

As the authors of this deed sailed away millions of cold, alien eyes tracked their course and noted their destination. The Hive Mind had been wounded but it was not yet defeated, and even though its thoughts were utterly alien and incomprehensible there was one aspect of it that any race would have recognised.

This was not over and there would yet be a reckoning.


	24. Chapter 24

**Fame Cimex Chapter 24**

The Hive city was a seething mass of activity, with tens of thousands of people rioting in the streets and crowds running rampant everywhere. Masses of panicked people fought in the streets and blood flowed freely, shops were smashed in and looters grabbed whatever they could as men and women clawed at each other in mass hysteria.

The cause of all this distress were the vicious rumours flying everywhere about Tyranid monsters infesting the city, people talking about attacks in the slums and people being taken from their beds. Even the Cathedral of the Saviour Emperor and an entire orphanage had been assaulted, proving divine favour was no protection. Gossip spread the fear everywhere and with each retelling, the horror grew and grew until it could do nothing but spill over into violent panic.

In response the Arbites and local enforcers had deployed en-masse, heading out with suppressors and riot shields ready. They fought back the madness with tear gas and water cannons, trying to suppress the raging mobs and instil order. It didn't work, the fear had reached fever pitch and the madness swept over the common masses like a wildfire. In desperation the Planetary Governor sent out his PDF to restore order with guns and tanks, using the Hammer of the Emperor where more subtle means had failed. They were aided in this task by the Sister's of Battle, clad in Black armour with red roses blazoned upon their banners. Officially they were being sent to bring purifying flame to the blasphemous masses, but unofficially they were hunting for something far more specific, something Cardinal Giovanni desperately wanted to see dead. Yet what nobody could have realised was that these displays of Imperial might merely played into the Tyranid's tangled web.

High up the great spire that rose from the city, a creature was making slow progress as it ascended. From a distance it would have appeared as a tiny speck, a spider climbing a great tree. Yet had any thought to look closer they would have seen its elongated limbs and grasping claws that declared it to be the Lictor, the very creature that had initiated the mass hysteria.

The Lictor was patiently making its way up the great spire, instinctively following the scent of the pheromone it had marked its target with. The microscopic traces would have been undetectable to even the finest Imperial Auspex scanners and cyber Mastiffs, but the Lictor was utterly beyond such feeble measures and it followed the spoor unerringly. Finding an opportunity to infiltrate the spire had presented a challenge and yet the Lictor's instincts had led to a solution. In many ways the Hive spire resembled a complicated burrow and to the Lictor's primitive brain the solution was obvious. In any warren the front was always well guarded, any attack would provoke an overwhelming response, yet attack from the rear and the creatures would have no reply. All it had taken was a few days of random attacks and predation in the lower levels and the guard-animals had spilled out into the lower streets, leaving the main body of the burrow exposed and vulnerable.

The Lictor had not hesitated to make its move, scaling the exterior of the spire with effortless ease. It soon reached altitudes where the air became thin, a prey animal would have suffocated in minutes but the Lictor breathed easily on the wisps of atmosphere. It slipped past vent stacks and flumes spewing thick vapours from life support systems, the prey was not expecting anybody to approach from such a direction and the Lictor went completely undetected.

Soon the Lictor found a way inside the spire, an air vent sucking in the thin vapour with a large spinning fan blade. A spray of adhesive mucus easily stalled the blade and the Lictor slipped inside, squeezing into a space no prey would have thought it could fit through. Once it had achieved entry the Lictor found itself in a maze of ventilation tunnels, an ant's nest of twisting passages encrusted with mould and fungal growths. The Lictor did not find this disturbing in the slightest, in many ways the passages resembled the interior of a Tyranid breeding pool. The Lictor made its way deeper into the burrow, following the distant hints of pheromones. As it progressed it felt the vibrations of prey going about their lives, oblivious to its presence above their heads.

Soon it found itself in a hot, wet area and here it paused, scenting the spoor of blood on the air. It slithered over to an opening, with a mesh of fine metal bars and found itself looking out over a large arena. Here the prey seemed to be engaged in the preparation of biomass for consumption, lacking the powerful jaws and corrosive acids of Tyranid creatures they were reduced to macerating meat with metal implements and heating it over flames.

The scents were bewildering to the Lictor, the processes involved ruining much of the genetic potential in the biomass but that was not what was drawing its attention. Directly below the Tyranid creature was an immature female, working over a hot flame and this was the source of the blood trace. The Lictor's scent receptors quivered as it struggled to understand why it had been drawn here, then it understood. The Female had just reached breeding age and was in a state of its first hormonal flux, the genetic potential of such a find was rare indeed and the Hive Mind could reap great rewards from its flesh.

Following a secondary instinct the Lictor sprayed a pheromone marker out of the vent, showering down upon the female in a microscopic mist. It was undetectable to the prey but when the Hive Fleet came the Tyranids would follow this scent and reap the genetic potential of the animal for the advancement of their race. Satisfied the Lictor moved on, following the spoor ever deeper into the burrow. It passed over wide avenues thronged with prey and empty chambers left to vermin and arachnids that fled in terror as the predator passed over their heads. Slowly it made its way up the burrow, following the scent ever higher until at last it found itself at a true obstacle.

Here the vents narrowed to a degree that even the Lictor could not pass through and it felt the vibrations of sensory organs sampling the air, looking for intruders. The Lictor backed up to the last opening it had passed and tore open the mesh to allow it into the prey's own passages. It found itself in a long tunnel, high and wide with supporting columns and odd effigies lining the walls, clearly meant as a crude deterrent to scare off passing predators. The Lictor was not fooled though, the scent told it that the effigies were mere stone and it shifted its chameleonic skin to match the surface of the roof as it skittered onwards. A few milling prey animals were shuffling about but none of them noticed the Lictor passing overhead as it followed the spoor, now becoming overwhelming in potency: it was so close.

Soon the Lictor found itself approaching a large wooden barrier, before which stood a true obstacle: a pair of female guard-animals standing before the barricade with weapons drawn. The lesser prey were steering clear of the female guards, averting their gaze in deference to their dominant position in the herd, which played to the Lictor's favour.

Slowly, one inch at a time the Lictor moved closer, taking ultimate care not to be detected. It was incredibly risky but the females were concentrating upon the other prey beasts, not thinking to look upwards. Slowly the Lictor made its way directly over the females and there it paused, waiting for the right moment. The females were alert and well-armed but they were limited by their prey-senses and did not realise the danger they were in. They stood a few feet apart sweeping back and forth constantly but never looking upwards.

The Lictor waited until the weapons were both pointed at the furthest extent of their arcs and then it dropped from the ceiling with claws outstretched. It hit both females simultaneously, plunging its talons into the gaps in their carapaces behind their necks and killing both instantly. The females fell with a clatter of carapaces, drawing attention from the distant prey. Shrieks of alarm rose up to warn the herd, but the Lictor was already in motion, leaping at the wooden barrier in a blur of chitin. The barrier shattered with ease and the Lictor broke through into a large chamber, lined with shiny materials and stinking with the odd scents of refined opiates and fermented fruit juices. The chamber was filled with odd effigies and colourful images on the walls, but what drew the Lictor's attention was the horizontal slab at the far end. Here at last was the Leader-Beast, exposed and vulnerable, caught in the act of mating with several females and its scent was spoiled by opiates.

The target was right in front of the Lictor but unfortunately there was one problem, several female guards standing around the walls, watching the Leader-Beast even as it mated. The Lictor noticed that one of them was the Alpha female whom it had scented before, already drawing its long claw and charging forth bellowing a declaration of challenge. The Alpha came at the Lictor with its claw sparking and swung wildly trying to make contact with its first blow. The Lictor however bent back inhumanly and the claw passed over its head, singeing its chitin with sparks of lightning. The Alpha followed this up with a series of fast blows, hacking and stabbing in a frenzy of attacks. It was fast, skilled and experienced but unfortunately it failed to realise that this time the Lictor was not holding back.

The Lictor ducked a blow and rose up with its long claws extending outwards, hitting the Alpha right over the heart. The carapace met the chitin claws and parted, mere armour no match for the Tyranid's gene-crafted blades. The Alpha gasped as the claws ripped out its heart and it dropped its weapon as death claimed it. The Lictor twisted and lifted the weight of the dying animal, flinging it at the other pair of females who were still standing by the slab. The females went down in a tangle of limbs, thrashing on the ground as the Lictor leapt into position. The Leader-Beast stirred, finally realising through its opiated state that it was under attack.

The Lictor loomed over the Leader-beast as it screamed and held up fat paws to fend off death, but that was not the Tyranid's plan. The Lictor opened its maw and from a special gland sprayed a thick, cloying pheromone over the Leader-Beast, a tracer that the Hive Mind could follow anywhere. The animal bellowed in pain and lifted its paws to its face as the musk burned its skin and its mates screamed loudly.

The Lictor however was already moving, leaping back out of the chamber into the corridor and racing away as fast as it could. The passageway was already clattering with the approach of more of the female guards but the Lictor was faster. It leapt onto the wall and scuttled back to the opening it had come in through. The females tried to stop it with blasts from their weapons, but the range was long and their short-sighted aim poor. The blasts hit all around the Lictor and stone chips ricocheted off its hide but they could not stop its escape. The Tyranid creature scuttled into the vent and fled into the darkness, chased by blasts and threat cries.

The Lictor's instincts told it to retreat and hide from pursuit, to wait for the right time. The first part of its task was complete, now the Leader-Beast had been marked and the Lictor could follow it right into the heart of the Prey's defences. When the Hive Fleet arrived the Lictor would strike and rip out the nerve centre of the prey's resistance, the walls would fall and the way would be open for the Tyranid fleet.


	25. Chapter 25

**Fame Cimex Chapter 25**

In orbit of Angle's Redoubt a meeting was taking place, once more the Lords Militant and the heads of the Imperial Departmentos were gathered to discuss affairs. The arena like space aboard the Starfort was again filled with the most influential of Imperial leaders, but this time the mood was far from exuberant. All knew of the defeat of the Imperial Navy, and the monsters that stalked the world below and now they had heard rumours of an unexplained catastrophe on the third world of the system. Every man and woman shared a secret fear, a thought that they could not utter lest it prove true: the Tyranids were winning.

Fear and doubt were rampant among the great and the good, the terror of the looming Xeno invasion gripping every heart. In other circumstances most of those present would even now be fleeing to the stars but that was impossible. The Shadow of the Hive Mind was upon the system and the Navigators could no longer see the Astronomicon. For the first time these nobles were forced to face the idea of being in personal danger and they did not care for it.

Standing in the centre of the arena was Inquisitor Zerban in his black power armour, furiously shouting and making grandiose gestures with each pronouncement. He was orating to the crowd in an attempt to rally their support but it wasn't working. The fear and panic meant that no one was listening and the ceaseless chatter drowned out his words. Zerban was growing increasingly frustrated with these inept fools, with their lack of vision and contrary nature, as if they had any right to question his authority. The Xenos were practically on their doorstep and all these idiots wanted to do was argue and push their own agendas.

Standing behind the frustrated Inquisitor was the corpulent form of Cardinal Giovanni, looking rather worse for wear. His face was blistered and scarred by an ugly purple bruise and one of his eyes was swollen shut. Rumour had it that he had been attacked in his own bedchamber, Zerban had carefully inserted the detail that he had been fasting and taking holy prayer at the time, but he could not hide the fact that the Cardinal had only escaped by the skin of his teeth. Zerban had thought his opinion of Giovanni could sink no lower, but he was surprised to find that there were still depths yet to be plumbed. The incident seemed to have worn at Giovanni's sanity, for he was fumbling with his vestments and fidgeting constantly. He was muttering some incoherent litany under his breath and if anyone had been able to hear him over the tumult then they would have heard crazed mentions of monsters and divine judgement on them all.

Suddenly Zerban heard a commotion behind him and saw in the corner of his eye that Chapter Master Gorgall, along with his lackeys Captains Toran and Phalros had arrived. They were marching out from the entrance behind the stage in a perfect replica of their previous entrance. Zerban gritted his teeth, for this was the last thing he needed right now, but the crowd instantly spotted them and the tone changed. Many of those present hissed about unwelcome intrusions but far more nurtured the faint hope that the Space Marines may have come with a solution to the crisis. Yet the whispers fell silent when a fourth Astartes appeared, one in very different colours: Shade-Seer Imix.

Zerban's breath caught in his throat for his spies had failed to tell him that the exotic Chapter was in the system. Though they would never be famous in the way the First or even Second Founding Chapters were, the Smoke Jaguars had a solid reputation for worthy service and their aid had never been turned away when offered. Mouths fell silent in the arena as every mind tried to understand why the elusive Chapter was here and Zerban wondered what it meant that they were standing with the Storm Heralds.

Inquisitor Zerban rallied his spirit and snarled, "You, you are not welcome here!"

Gorgall was resplendent in his Artificer armour and he eyed the Inquisitor calmly as he replied, "Strange you say that, when we were invited to come."

Zerban's eye narrowed suspiciously and he growled, "Invited… by whom?"

"By me!" came a voice from the crowd and everybody craned to see who had spoken. Standing proudly among the ranks of potentates was a single man in a starched naval uniform, one who bore a plethora of medals on his chest and the rank badges of a senior flag officer. His hair had its first wisps of grey, making him young by the standards of the Imperial authorities and he bore the distinctive hooked nose of the Dousmanis family. This was Dousmanis the Younger, Admiral of the fleet and the most senior Lord Militant present and he was standing proudly to glare at the Lord Inquisitor.

Zerban glared back, infuriated by the defiant Admiral, as he barked, "You invited them, you overreach yourself."

Dousmanis the Younger replied firmly, "As the highest ranking officer in this theatre of war it is my Emperor given right to call upon all military assets as I see fit."

The crowd gasped to hear someone defying an Inquisitor to his face and all went silent to see how this would play out. The Inquisition was the most feared of all the Imperial institutions but the Navy had the weight of numbers and firepower on its side. There was no way of telling which side currently held the most authority and all knew the next few minutes would determine how the scales of power would tip.

Zerban was not about to be put down by this upstart and growled, "Do not think to disobey the Inquisition, we are the Emperor's eyes and ears. We see all and hear all."

The crowd shrank back in fear at the pronouncement but Dousmanis did not seem cowed as he replied, "And yet that did not give you clairvoyance enough to lead us to victory, we followed your strategy before and my uncle died for your hubris. You may watch and you may listen but that does not give you the right to dictate strategy, I propose that it is you who has overreached!"

The crowd was enthralled to see anybody defaming an Inquisitor publicly and Zerban realised that this Dousmanis really did think he was untouchable right now. Sadly he was right; his uncle's martyrdom shielded him from criticism and until that changed anything Zerban said would only rebound upon him. Of course Zerban could just draw his laspistol and execute the Admiral as a Heretic, any Inquisitor could, but that presented a whole new set of problems. One did not rise as far as Zerban had without making powerful political enemies and he knew that they were just waiting for him to put a foot wrong, in fact he himself had taken down rival Inquisitors with far flimsier pretexts. If Zerban executed someone as prominent and well connected as the Admiral without having compelling evidence of Heresy, then the rest of the Inquisition would gleefully declare him Excommunicate Traitoris.

Zerban decided to change tactics and challenged the Space Marines directly, he addressed Gorgall and spat, "What makes you think you can make any difference here?"

Gorgalled replied calmly stated, "Because we already have, it was our fleet that rescued the Imperial Navy from the jaws of the Hive Fleet."

Zerban drew in a sharp breath for that was a pointed jab; by implying that the Navy needed rescuing the Astartes was harshly criticising Zerban's tactics and weakening his position. The Inquisitor growled, "A shame that you ran away afterwards, a braver man would have carried on and struck a deadly blow rather than waste such an opportunity."

A smile slipped over Gorgall's transhuman features and Zerban realised that the Astartes had a trump card yet to play as he stated, "But we did, it was our forces that engaged the Tyranids over the third planet of this system and there they struck a tremendous blow for the Imperium."

Gasps from the crowd met that declaration and Zerban's ire peaked as he roared, "You dared destroy a world! It is the privilege of the Inquisition to decide which worlds live and die!"

Gorgall didn't flinch as he replied, "According to the accords of the Second Founding, as laid down by the Primarch Roboute Guilliman and ratified by the first High Lords speaking for the Emperor, a Chapter Master of the Adeptus Astartes has the right to declare Exterminatus when necessary. I assure you that this deed was not performed thoughtlessly nor irresponsibly, for the death of the planet took vast numbers of the Tyranid foe with it; our enemies have been reduced by half!"

Excited whispers greeted that and swept the arena, the thought that the Tyranids were not unbeatable sparking a desperate hope in every heart. Zerban saw that the crowd was turning against him and tried to rally his position by saying, "But the collateral damage was inexcusable, it's always the same with you war dogs, you wreck destruction and leave nothing but ruin in your wake!"

"Incorrect!" a prim voice cried out as Zerban spied a red-robed Magos of the Mechanicus floating higher over the crowd. She raised a hand and said, "While the loss of honoured tech artefacts is regrettable the planet's primary value was its high mineral content. The break-up of the planet will take a century to complete but once it has stabilised the minerals can be extracted via asteroid mining."

Zerban's temper flared at that, the technical jargon was meaningless to him but the fact that the Adept was taking the Space Marine's side was damning. Now the Navy and the Mechanicus both supported the Astartes, which was a potent enough pairing to swing many others to their cause.

Zerban tried to fight back by calling upon his ally saying, "Cardinal Giovanni, does not the Emperor have something to say?"

Yet Giovanni's gaze was far away and all he could say was, "Damned, damned we are all damned for our sins! The Emperor has forsaken us and he is right to do so!"

Zerban couldn't believe what he was hearing; the fat fool sounded like a raving madman and was ruining everything for the Inquisitor. He looked around the arena and saw the faces turning against him, even those he had blackmailed and extorted into following his lead were turning away in disgust. He made one desperate attempt to salvage the situation saying, "The battle is not over yet, the Imperium of Man can still stand strong in its purity!"

Yet it was Shade-Seer Imix who stepped up and declared, "Forget not that the strength of the Imperium lies in its unity. Was it not the Sun-Emperor's own decree that humanity must be united if it is to survive the darkness that dwells between the stars? Has not history proven him right? For ten thousand years the Imperium has endured all that the universe can throw at it and it is only through our unity that we can know this to be true. We stand before you, here and now, as living proof of that truth, that the Tyranids can be defeated and that through unity we can triumph."

The crowd paused at that and Gorgall seized the moment to proclaim, "Who here will stand with us as Brothers? Who here will join with us to draw a line in the stars and show these Xenos that Mankind cannot and will not be broken!"

The crowd leapt to its feet in response, they clapped and cheered the Astartes as if they were already victorious and the war was over. All thoughts of discord and division were put aside, for the first time they stood united as one force, one people.

Only one man was not cheering, it was Inquisitor Zerban and he was silent as the grave. Without saying a word the Inquisitor spun on his heel and marched out, in a perfectly reversed mirror of his previous victory. He knew he had lost this battle but swore there would be others, it did not matter if the Storm Heralds survived this war: sooner or later he would find a way to crush them under his heel.


	26. Chapter 26

**Fame Cimex Chapter 26**

High over Angle's Redoubt the defences were slowly being prepared, massive starforts were test firing their shields and gun crews ran through endless drills. Armsmen practiced counter-boarding techniques while Techpriests blessed and sanctified the artefacts and devices of war.

Clouds of minefields were repositioned for maximum effect and dormant Torpedo launcher platforms deployed, these tiny specks were totally defenceless but since they would tear themselves apart the second they launched their deadly cargoes it hardly mattered. Flights of fighters and bombers swam through the void, rehearsing their formations while system defence boats and Defence Monitors gathered together and ran scenarios. Meanwhile in various dockyards the battered Imperial Navy was being refitted, hasty repairs being fashioned while magazines and stores were replenished with unseemly haste. Fresh crews were also being brought on board, press-ganged scum from the depths of the Hive Cities being beaten down and manacled to the guns where they would probably die in service to the Emperor. This was typical behaviour of the Imperium, where human life was cheap and manpower spent as heedlessly as Promethium or Lasgun packs.

The orbital defence was as strong as anybody could hope, hundreds of thousands of men waiting and ready to meet the foe. Yet what no one could know was whether this would be enough to withstand the horror that was bearing down upon them. The Tyranids were coming and all knew that this battle would decide the fate of every man woman and child in the system, if not the Imperium itself.

Striding along one of the Starforts were a trio of Space Marines, briskly inspecting the preparations and touring the defences. There were many such groups spread out around the defence platforms, conducting a thorough assessment of the preparations before the battle commenced. Many naval officers and crew gave them resentful glares, irked by the Transhuman's presumption but these orders had been countersigned by the Admiral himself, so there was nothing to be done. This particular party consisted of Captain Toran and Sergeants Furion and Priyar, they had come together following their tours and were making reports. Toran was speaking saying, "Preparations seem to be going well, we are as ready as we can expect to be."

Priyar seemed less confident and said, "I am not so sure, these men have spent their lives sitting on guns that have not been fired since their great-grandfathers were swaddling babes. Genuine combat experience is rare and the SDF hardly attracts the cream of the Navy."

Toran replied, "It is what it is, we shall have to trust in the hearts of mankind or failing that the whips of the Commissars to keep them steady."

Furion replied, "Any Commissar who needs a whip to keep order doesn't deserve the rank sash."

Toran replied, "It is not like we have a lot of other options right now."

Priyar asked, "What of our own preparations?"

Torna answered, "Our ships took a lot less damage than the Navy, we are ready and able. The Strike Cruisers are keeping a watch on the outer perimeter while our Battle-Barges are held in reserve."

Furion inquired, "What of the Companies?"

Toran answered, "We know the Tyranids will land significant numbers on the surface no matter what so the majority of the Chapter will deploy under Captain Jossat to meet them there. However Third Company is to make its stand on the Light of Terra, while Fifth Company will be stationed on the Thunderlord alongside Chapter Master Gorgall himself."

Furion said, "Will the Guard and the Navy accept our lead?"

Toran said, "Officially the Navy and the Guard is being led by its own Admirals and Generals, but in practice they have agreed to a compromise. The orders will be issued by their officers but the words will be those of Chapter Master Gorgall."

Priyar did not look satisfied and said, "The surface war is a sideshow, we should concentrate our forces in orbit, taking out that last Hive Ship is everything now."

Furion shook his head and said, "We cannot abandon the people to the whims of fate, the surface war must be fought or we abandon our duty to Humanity and the Emperor."

Toran stated, "We must each be ready to fight as required, the orbital war is ours to prosecute and we will triumph."

Furion eyed the Captain and said, "Do not be so confident, this battle will be costly, great sacrifices will be required of you."

Toran paused and said, "Is not every Astartes always ready to lay down his life for the Emperor?"

Furion sighed and said, "That is not what I meant, to fight and die is easy but are you ready to make the hard choices that are to come?"

Toran realised that Furion was referring to their previous conversation about failure and said, "I have made my peace with Captain Laryen's death, I will not hesitate to make sacrifices if victory demands it."

Furion replied glumly, "That is easy to say, but the actual deed is harder than anyone is ever prepared for. We may face choices between honour and victory that few ever have to make."

Toran was quiet for a moment then said, "The Navy… you do not expect them to survive this battle."

Furion nodded and said, "Casualties will be terrifying, but we cannot pause nor stay our hand. If it comes down to it could you leave brave men and good friends behind to die, if by doing so you could strike the fatal blow to the foe?"

Toran swallowed and said, "Victory requires sacrifice, as the Primarch is my witness I will not allow compassion to weaken my resolve. I will do whatever is required, I will be as hard and stern as Rogal Dorn himself in the battle to come."

"Throne, you two are in a morbid mood," interjected Priyar changing the subject, "Anyway where are the Smoke Jaguars, I thought they were joining us for this inspection."

Toran replied, "Shade-Seer Imix said something about performing a ritual observance, he requested a hold for his Marines to use."

Furion said, "I admire their skill and cunning but our cousins have never been ones for holding lines and reckless charges, will they stand with us in this battle?"

Toran stated, "That is what we are about to find out."

While they had been talking the three of them arrived at the hold in question and were surprised to find no guards outside, the door left open and inviting. They proceeded inside expecting to find a Company of Space Marines making their preparations but the hold was surprisingly quiet and empty. They pressed onwards, looking for activity and then behind a small door they heard voices. The trio wandered over cautiously lest they offend their guests and peered inside. What they found was a small auxiliary chamber, only a dozen metres to a side, bare and bereft of decoration. Stood within Imix was holding out a large goblet before him, roughly hewn from stone and filled with a noxious liquor that filled the air with its taint. Each of the Astartes was cutting his palm with a dagger and squeezing their enhanced blood into the goblet, mixing their essence with the liquor and chanting in a debased form of the Gothic language.

Toran's lone organic eye went wide at the sight, for it resembled some form of tainted dark rite but he held his tongue. Many Chapters had strange and barbaric rituals but that did not impugn their loyalty, his own Chapter was hardly in a position to criticise another's beliefs after all. Toran watched silently as the Smoke Jaguars drank from the Goblet one by one, each staining their mouths with blood making them look like savage cannibals. Imix was the last to drink; he drained the cup then lowered it before declaring, "By this blood and by our oath, none shall escape our sight."

The four others replied, "Vengeance will be ours."

Imix finished by saying, "In the name of Primarch Corax and the Sun-Emperor."

Then as one they cried, "Victoriam Venandi!"

Then the group broke up and shuffled out, passing the waiting Storm Heralds without a word. Toran waited for them to move off then stepped into the alcove, where Imix was tidying away the artefacts of his ritual. Toran said, "I apologise for interrupting your rites Chief Librarian."

Imix did not seem concerned as he replied, "Not necessary, our ritual was just concluding, we are blooded and committed to the hunt now."

"I see," said Toran not really following the Shade-Seer's logic, "We have come to discuss our strategy for the upcoming battle."

Imix nodded and said, "My Marines are prepared to fight as you see fit, the Silent Hunter will sail under your flag and share the danger with you. We have chosen a Batab, a War-Leader, to stand in my stead and represent us."

It took a long moment for that to sink in and then Priyar blurted out, "Wait, you do not intend to be present at the final battle?"

Imix raised an eyebrow and said, "I thought you understood, those who you have just witnessed have another role to play. There is a threat that cannot be ignored, a creature on the surface that thinks it can prey upon the high and the low alike, a monster that kills babes in their beds and stalks the weak and defenceless. We are to descend to the planet and engage in a sacred hunt, this monster must be brought to justice."

Furion sounded horrified as he said, "You would leave the battle against the multitudes to go hunt down one creature?!"

Toran found he had to agree with the Sergeant and said, "Shade-Seer, I too must protest. The true battle will be in orbit and we need every single Astartes on the line, your power may mean the difference between victory and defeat. Perhaps once the battle is won we can indulge such luxuries, but not now."

Imix sighed wearily, clearly having had this argument before and said, "You do not understand our ways, the spirit of Corvus Corax lies heavily upon us, his need for vengeance burns in our blood. Istvaan V, the Carinae Retribution, the Scouring: ever the Primarch thirsted to bring down those who preyed upon the weak and helpless, to end tyranny in all its forms. We must follow in his footsteps; none can be allowed to think themselves beyond justice."

Furion said, "But…"

Now Imix sounded angry as he growled, "You forget that we are not yours to command, the Smoke Jaguars are a sovereign and proud Chapter and we will fight as we see fit."

Toran hesitated, the Librarian was right after all, the Smoke Jaguars had been incredibly accommodating so far but they were allies not servants and he could not risk losing their support right now. He slowly said, "I apologise my friend, all must make allowances when two cultures meet. Your right to fight where you choose is inviolable; I shall not stand in your way."

Imix glared for a moment then sighed and said, "If it will soothe your tempers then consider that the Cities below are wracked with fear and panic, the people cower in terror at the prospect of the killer in their midst. The defences are currently weak and hollow, but if we can bring word that this monster has been brought low it will quell the panic and put steel back into the spines of the common man. We need them to stand proudly in the coming battle, we need them to think that they can win."

Toran nodded for it made an odd sort of sense, he wasn't happy but there was nothing to be done right now. He looked at the Shade-Seer and said, "Very well, is there some form of ritual salutation I can offer?"

Imix smiled and replied, "We normally just say, Good Hunting."

Toran held out his hand Imix took it as the Captain said, "Very well then, in the name of Him on Terra: I wish you Good Hunting."


	27. Chapter 27

**Fame Cimex Chapter 27**

In the slums of the Hive City an eternal twilight reigned, here the faint polluted light of the sky barely reached the ground and what it illuminated was barely worth looking upon. Here the detritus of humanity eked out a miserable existence, the lost, the destitute, the infirm and the deranged all left to rot by an uncaring world. All those fortunate enough to live in better environs sneered at these inhabitants, seeing them as no better than the mutants and gang scum who lived in the underhive itself.

This was a neglected and tawdry place to be and those who lived here knew that they had been forgotten by the rest of humanity. Yet today someone was taking an interest, today five Transhuman giants were cautiously stalking their way deeper into the slums, seeking the spoor of something only they could scent. They were clad in ceramite coloured in shades of ash and smoke, that sank into the dark like oil on water. They were the Smoke Jaguars and they were on the hunt.

They proceeded in a widespread formation, slowly moving from cover to cover and keeping to the shadows at all times. This was not the standard Codex deployment for a sweep and destroy mission, this was something far more elegant and subtle. Each warrior was a veteran hunter, accustomed to stalking the most dangerous of prey and moving silently past any guards or detection. Most other Chapters would have looked down upon such tactics, considering them beneath the dignity of the Astartes but the Smoke Jaguars cared not. Bombastic glory and boastful honour was for brutish soldiers, they were here to hunt and if there was glory to be had then it would be in the moment of the kill itself.

Moving at the heart of their formation was a single warrior quite different to his kin, with a large staff and a psychic hood that shimmered with ethereal energies, Shade-Seer Imix himself. The Chief Librarian was well accustomed to such labours, for he had often championed his Chapter's compulsive need to track and slay those who thought they could prey upon humanity with impunity. Imix had personally slain monsters and heretics and even base criminals across a whole Segmentum and he had been the natural choice for such an endeavour, but today he was troubled. As he slipped from place to place his Psychic senses were extended to the maximum, sweeping the city around him. Imix was a Telepath, one of surpassing potency, and the minds of the inhabitants were open books to him. He could feel the souls of men all around him; hear their petty concerns and resentments like the chatter of a crowd in a confined room.

The lewdness and vulgarity of the human mind often wore at him, the sheer petty mindedness of humanity chipping at his sense of nobility. Yet every now and then he stumbled upon a mind who gave him hope, those who lived quiet unassuming lives, working for the betterment of others in ways that would never be celebrated or even recorded. Sometimes even the most hardened and callous of souls could show surprising compassion, shining moments in time like bright diamonds in a mound of coal. This was the normal state of affairs for Imix and he was well used to the contradictory paradox of the human condition. He could hear it all, even animal minds were open to him, but what he could not hear was the mind of his target: the Tyranid Lictor.

Imix was sweeping back and forth but there was nothing to be heard, the creature's presence was absent from the entire city, as if it did not exist. Bereft of his psychic advantages the Shade-Seer had been forced to use more mundane methods, following scuffs and blood trails and the discarded remains of vermin. Even this spoor had been scant and well-hidden, had the Smoke Jaguars been any less expert at tracking they would have been left completely dumbfounded. Still after two days of searching, they had picked up an erratic trail, faint but undeniable and it had led them to this slum. Presently they were surveying a derelict building, non-descript and unremarkable in every way, just like every building in the area.

The trail had led them here and there it stopped; now Imix was considering his options. It could be a decoy or a false trail but somehow that did not feel correct, Imix was sure this was the target though he could not say why. Cautiously he extended his mind and swept the building, looking for signs of the quarry but found nothing, there was no life within. The Shade-Seer sighed and was about to order his squad to backtrack when something struck him: there was no life inside at all. Imix paused and swept the building again and this time recognised what his subconscious was telling him. The building was deserted by all life, including vermin, avians, and insects, even the cockroaches were fleeing in all directions.

Confident that he had found the right target Imix signalled his Brothers and alerted them to the target. Using his Chapter's secret, silent sign language he directed the four of them to approach the structure, each entering the building by a different route, so to catch the quarry unawares. The Smoke Jaguars moved out, each Astartes drawing his Obsidian blade and the blackened metal looked like shards of midnight in their hands. They spread out and began scaling the walls, climbing effortlessly even in heavy armour, as each brother sought to enter a different floor.

Meanwhile Imix moved to a rotten door and silently opened it, the resistance of the warped wood being as nothing to a Transhuman's strength. Imix slowly crept inside, impossibly making no sound on the warped floorboards as he entered. Inside the building was like a shadowy cave, the interior walls covered in dank mildew and barely a hint of light slipped in through the broken windows. Imix couldn't see anything with his mundane eyes nor his psychic senses, but some primal instinct was screaming at him that danger was close, so very very close.

Imix went utterly still and silent as he scoured the space, but he could not see anything and knew that he needed to venture out further. Imix dug deep into his soul and reached for the shadows, calling upon his genetic legacy to Wraith-Slip and disappear from all sight. Once wrapped in the shadows he cautiously stepped out, looking for the slightest hint that the quarry was here and alert for danger at all times. His heart rates increased and his enhanced glands pumped hyper-adrenaline into his bloodstream, keeping him on a razor's edge and ready to fight. With every nerve on edge Imix swept the floor, checking rooms one by one but finding nothing. All signs pointed to him being alone here, but still his instincts screamed he was in danger and he felt an unfamiliar sensation of wanting to look behind his back every few seconds.

Suddenly there was the faintest creaking noise behind him and Imix whirled with his staff raised to fight. His eyes flashed over the room looking for his enemy but found nothing, then he saw a shutter creaking at a broken window, pushed back and forth by a faint breeze. Imix almost sighed in relief but held back the instinct, his hearts were still beating rapidly and the hairs on the back of his neck yet stood up. Swallowing his trepidation Imix cleared the floor and found a staircase leading up, determining that nothing more was to be gained here he proceeded upwards to find another wrecked space. Imix suddenly paused, as his nose detected the scent of blood and then he saw it: there, right there, over by a window was a shadowy lump where none should be.

Imix sank deeper into the Wraith-slip, becoming one with the darkness and then he slipped forwards. He held his staff firmly and kept his mind open, ready to draw upon the Warp's power at a moment's notice. Step by step he crept forwards, closing in on the shadow as he prepared to pounce. The shadow did not react, unaware of his approach until he was too close and then he struck. Imix leapt forwards, springing towards the target with his Force Staff held out as he struck. Yet at the last second he pulled back, halting his strike awkwardly before he made contact. Imix's eyes widened in surprise when he realised he knew this shadow, this was not some Xeno, this was one of his own kin: Brother Cotoyl.

The Smoke Jaguar was stretched out on the ground with his throat cut open, the wound gaping and covered in blood. The Space Marine must have been taken by surprise for there were no signs of a battle, and his blade was unbloodied in his hands. Imix scowled in frustration and sadness, the death of a brother was never easy and yet a small part of his mind asked why Cotoyl had been left out like this, where anybody could find it. Then his eyes widened and he cursed himself for a fool: this was no battle scene, this was bait for a trap.

Imix spun on his heel with his staff held out before him and there was a loud clang as the haft caught two long serrated talons in the act of stabbing towards his head. Imix looked past the talons and saw a creature of nightmare attached to them, covered in chitin, with elongated limbs and a mass of tendrils where its mouth should be. With a surge of lightning-fast blows the Lictor came at him, stabbing and slashing with its overhead talons and two hands tipped with razor-sharp claws. The attack was swift and sure, ferocious and unrestrained as only a predator could be. Imix fell back desperately parrying with his staff and as he did so he realised that the creature knew where he was despite his Wraith-slip: it could see him.

Imix reached out with his mind, trying to find a chink in the mental armour. What he found was shocking, there was nothing in its head, no abstract thought, no reason or emotion. The Lictor's mind was made purely of instinct and primal urges, driving it to hunt or to hide with all the free will of a servitor. No wonder he could not sense the beast, even its mind was nothing but a camouflage. Imix fought off a flurry of claws as he tried to find an angle, if he had been a Telekine or a Pyromancer he could have wrecked carnage but he was a Telepath, fighting a foe with no mind. Deprived of his psychic advantage Imix was forced to fight as a regular Astartes, using muscles and weapons instead of his customary psionic tools.

Imix blocked a vicious strike and twisted his grip, throwing the Lictor aside before following up with a roundhouse blow. Yet the creature bent inhumanly under the swing and came back with claws outstretched. Imix ducked so that the claws merely scored across his pauldron and then he slammed his elbow into a leathery midriff, forcing the beast back. The creature hissed in response and prepared to leap back at him but then there was a clatter of armoured boots signalling that the rest of the Smoke Jaguars were approaching. Imix was too skilled to glance away even for a moment, but still he was unprepared when the Lictor's mouth tendrils quivered and it sprayed a vicious acidic mucus at him.

Imix hastily raised his arm before his face and let the spray splatter over the ceramite, dissolving his proud colours. He was instantly back on guard but the moment of distraction was enough, for the Lictor was already diving away. Even as he watched the Lictor bounded away and jumped at a window, shattering the glass as it dove through into the darkness outside. Imix ran to the window intending to follow but he pulled up short when he saw the exterior.

Outside the window was only darkness, with no hint as to what direction the Lictor had fled in. Imix growled in anger as he realised that the creature had escaped him, the hunt would have to continue elsewhere.


	28. Chapter 28

**Fame Cimex Chapter 28**

Amongst the dark and grimy alleyways of the slums marched a small party of armoured figures, striding confidently through the detritus and passing the filthy dwellers with total disdain. Cutpads shrank back before them, immediately recognising trouble when they saw it and even the most deranged and drug-fuelled locals made themselves scarce when they saw the size and power of the intruders.

At the head of the group moved the four remaining Smoke Jaguars, moving with weapons raised and totally alert for threats. It was odd to see them walking so openly and loudly, but days of silently stalking ghosts had gained them nothing so now they were changing tactics. They strode with the total confidence of those who know that they were by far the most dangerous people in the area, the most deadly of gangs being mere irritants to them.

However they were not alone, for with them moved a pair of Sisters-of-Battle, only slightly smaller in their ornate Power armour. Their plate was festooned with purity seals and they bore a pair of flamers, sanctified by the holiest of Tech-Priests. The weapons were indiscriminate and brazen, the risks of starting a conflagration in the cluttered alleys were high indeed, but the Sisters were certain of the God-Emperor's divine favour and dismissed such base concerns. The last member of the party was totally different in every way, a lone man, fat, overweight and gasping to breathe as he struggled to keep up. His rich robes were soiled by the filth of the area and he leaned on a thin rod for support as he staggered forwards. He looked ridiculous in these surroundings, fat, weak and helpless, if it were not for the armoured beings with him the local gangs would have taken in him mere minutes.

At the head of the group Shade-Seer Imix was striding confidently forward, his focus total and his determination unwavering. He was scanning not for the mind of the Lictor he knew was out there, but instead for the minds of animals and vermin, looking for hints of terror and surprise. As he did so he could not help but brush over the minds of his companions, feeling the shapes of their psyches and the textures of their souls.

The pair of Sisters were a curious breed, their minds towering pillars of certitude and blind conviction. One could be forgiven for thinking that they resembled the minds of Space Marines, but in truth they were as different as night and day. An Astartes' mind was a fortress, crafted and honed by ancient science and the most ruthless training regime imaginable. Most importantly their gene-crafted bodies were living proof of the Emperor's potency and wisdom, they did not need to believe in an imaginary god, they knew his power from first-hand experience. The Sister's faith however was a brittle and oppressive thing, suppressing any doubts and misgivings behind brutal, rigid walls of denial and anger. Their devotion was rigid and unbending, prone to violent outbursts and liable lead to tactical mistakes in the heat of combat. Imix found it to be a hollow and stifling mindset; lacking the strategic nuance of even the most rabid of Astartes Chapters… still it was better than Giovanni's mind.

The Cardinal's mind was a turmoil of conflicting currents, a mad swirl of doubt, fear and guilt wrapping his soul. The man had spent his life in luxury and indolence, worried about no greater threat than a rival taking his position. It had left him with little to no capacity to cope with the current situation and the reality was straining his mind to the limit. From the moment he had met the Cardinal Imix had felt the man teetering on the brink of insanity. It had taken much cajoling and more than a little psychic prompting to convince him to leave his shelter and come with them. They had taken the Cardinal out of the city spire and brought him here by armoured convoy, then told him that they had to leave their guards behind and proceed on foot. Imix layering the Cardinal's mind with the conviction that secrecy and speed would serve better than the masses of guards who had already failed to protect him.

Suddenly Imix tensed as they party came upon a small square, a junction between several alleyways that left a wide space. It was filled with rubbish and overlooked by the surrounding buildings that cut off almost all the light, creating a drab grey space with nothing to commend it. Imix held up a clenched fist and the group paused as he scanned the area, reaching out with his mind. Imix cautiously probed ahead, but only found animal minds, a flock of small avian creatures roosting in the gutters overhead. He waved his Brothers forward and they spread out, covering the various entrances to the space as Imix assessed the situation. Giovanni stood near him and bent double, heaving for air as his flabby physique struggled to cope. After a minute he was able to stand back up and peered up at the Space Marine saying, "Why have we stopped?"

Imix didn't look at him but kept his eyes sweeping the area as he said, "I am observing our trail, looking to see if we are being followed."

Giovanni nodded over and over as his mind churned, it seemed he needed to talk again for he said, "It was a good idea to send the rest of the guards on ahead, they will draw away the eyes of the enemy."

Imix merely grunted dismissively, "Huh."

Giovanni wasn't done yet though as he said, "Tell me, is it much further to the safehouse?"

Now Imix did look down at him and said, "Safehouse?"

Giovanni nodded and said, "Yes, the City Spire was too obvious and vulnerable, it was essential I that reach a safer place. That's why you came to protect me...isn't it?"

Imix frowned and said in a perplexed tone, "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Giovanni's began to perspire again and a feral mad light edged into his eyes as he said, "I am an important personage, the Imperium needs me, the Emperor needs me. Why else would you have come to me?"

Imix answered honestly, "This monster has eluded our hunt; it is proving a most crafty foe. Yet the cunning hunter does not blunder about wantonly, if he cannot track his prey he lays out an enticing lure and this beast has shown a most particular interest in you."

Giovanni's eyes widened in denial and mad terror and he screamed hysterically, "You're using me as bait?! You're using me as BAIT!"

It was in that moment that the shadows came alive and birthed a monstrosity, all claws and talons and grasping tendrils. There was no warning of its approach; it simply came out of nowhere already in mid-leap and attacking. Before anyone could react the Lictor was among them, slashing with its claws and decapitating Brother Acayt in one blow. The dead Smoke Jaguar fell to the ground in a clatter of plate as everyone gasped in surprise and the birds took flight, circling the area and cawing in alarm.

The Astartes' reaction speed was blinding, Brothers Yoatl and Eztli leaping into combat as they drew their Obsidian blades. They leapt at the Lictor headfirst, knives stabbing and hacking at its hide as they impacted. The next few seconds would have been nothing but a blur to mere mortal eyes, a frenzy of traded kicks and stabs that tore into the combatants with savage fury. The Astartes were strong and skilled, striking with deadly precision, but the Lictor was inhumanely fast and it twisted like a snake to avoid their blows.

Imix was stood between the combatants and the Cardinal, looking for an opening. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Sisters raising their weapons; the merely mortal movements looking absurdly slow compared to the fight already raging. Imix realised that they were intending to fire into the melee and he yelled, "No!" But it was too late, the flamers were lit and the promethium was already spurting out. Two plumes of fire burst across the square, hitting Brother Yoatl square in the back and engulfing him in a blazing conflagration. Yoatl fell to the ground and dropped his Obsidian Blade as his armour seals failed and his body was burned alive. The Lictor for its part was caught in the edge of the blast but the searing flames only scorched its chitin leaving it unharmed. It twisted in the flames and kicked out at brother Eztli, knocking him backwards out of the fight.

Imix barely had time to raise his staff before the Lictor was moving again, leaping out of the flames like a daemon rising from hell. Imix swung to meet it but was surprised when the Lictor didn't come at him, instead going straight at the pair of Sisters who staggered back in fear. With two lightning-fast blows it stabbed down, penetrating their power amour and tearing out their hearts. Imix roared in denial and charged forth but the Lictor twirled its body about and threw the dying Sisters at him. The Shade-Seer was hit full on by the weight and was knocked backwards, the impact jarring the Force Staff out of his grip. The Lictor wasted not a moment on its fallen foes, leaping straight at the Cardinal. It landed right before him with its claws raised and tendrils quivering as it hissed unintelligibly. Giovanni screamed in terror at the sight, holding his hands up before him as if that could ward off his fate.

The Lictor towered over him, the predator over its prey, an image from mankind's worst nightmares made flesh. Yet before it could claim its prize another force intervened, a flurry of black winged bodies hurling themselves at the Lictor in a whirlwind of stabbing beaks and claws. It was the flock of birds and they descended on the beast with one purpose and one will driving them. The Lictor flailed about in a desperate attempt to evade, lashing out to send small bodies fluttering to the ground in pieces. Yet dozens upon dozens of birds still hounded the creature, following it wherever it went fled and covering it in a thrashing heap of feathers.

The Lictor was beset on all sides and as such it missed the arrival of Imix, charging into combat with a furious roar on his lips. His psychic hood was blazing with the power he had summoned to control the bird's small minds and in his hand he held Brother Yoatl's Obsidian Blade, still thrumming with sonic energies. Imix leapt at the beast even as it fought off the birds and he ducked a sweeping blow from an elongated talon. Imix did not hesitate, but threw himself straight at the Lictor, blade stabbing upwards to where the heart should be. There was a second of resistance as blade met Chitin but then the sonic weapon found the correct resonant frequency and parted the hide to plunge within.

The Lictor threw back its head and roared as it tried to shake the warrior off but Imix held on, driving his fist deeper and deeper into its chest. He summoned all his fury, all his strength and rage and he snarled like a jungle predator as he pushed the blade ever deeper. He refused to relent, even as his arm sank elbow deep within its guts and his armour was sprayed with entrails. Then in a shower of gore, the blade erupted out of the Lictor's back, tearing out its vital organs. The Lictor let out one last howl of denial before it finally went still and limp, held up only by Imix's arm.

The Shade-Seer pulled back and dropped the corpse, letting it fall in a heap at his gore-stained feet. Imix breathed heavily as he looked upon his foe and knew that victory was his, but the cost had been heavy. Of the four Brothers he had brought only one still lived and the Sisters were both dead. As for Cardinal Giovanni, he was crumpled in a heap, soiling himself and rocking back and forth. He was wailing a thin scream, a declaration that his reason and sanity had fled. Imix knew even without having scanned him that the man's mind was shattered, he would scream endlessly from now until the last of his days.

With the dead and the insane all around him, Imix looked up at the sky and could only hope that the battle in orbit would prove less costly than his own had been.


	29. Chapter 29

**Fame Cimex Chapter 29**

High over Angle's Redoubt stars moved, constellations of twinkling diamonds moving across the velvet sky. From a distance they looked tiny but on closer inspection each was revealed to be a massive fortress, a line of defence platforms and Starforts set to watch eternally over the billions below. Among their number moved the sleek lines of System Ships and the brutal, harsh lines of Defence Monitors, prowling in a ceaseless guard. Anywhere on the planet men could look upwards and draw reassurance from the chain of lanterns in the sky, knowing that a ceaseless guardian stood to their defence. Yet today that defence would be tested.

In the orbital stations thousands upon thousands of men raced to bring the defences to readiness. Most of these men had thought that they would spend their lives on these drab platforms, never seeing genuine battle, but now war had found them. Officers, Provosts and press-ganged men all bent to their tasks with frantic haste, knowing that the next few hours would determine whether they would live or die. The Tyranid splinter fleet had been detected and it would arrive soon. All across the defence platforms gun batteries were woken and prepared, hundreds of slaves struggling to hoist munitions into place as Tech-Priest chanted and blessed the arcane mysteries of the Machine. Targeting Cogitators were beseeched for their favour and servitors commanded to ferry ever more munitions from the magazines. The stations huddled together like a herd of cattle in a storm, seeking the shelter of each's presence and the strength that came from mutual support.

On the mightiest of Starforts the corridors rang with hymns as the naval clergy sought divine favour while senior commanders gathered around Hololiths and tried not to look scared by what they were seeing. Void shields were test fired and point defence turrets raised like a spindly forest over each bastion while inside arms men rushed to their counter-boarding posts. Elsewhere hanger bays thundered with a cacophony of noise as squadrons of fighters and bombers were fuelled and armed, flight crews making their own superstitious blessings before the being thrown into the void.

Alone in its own orbital lane the Inquisitorial Starfort looked lost and alone, caught between the danger of the oncoming Xenos and the loss of face that seeking support would entail. Whatever discussion raged among the shadowy Lords would go forever unrecorded, but after a while many noticed that the black Starfort was drifting closer to its kin. Edging into the defensive web, without looking obvious that it was doing so.

The defenders were alert and tense, each man preparing in his own way for the coming battle. Some of the lowest conscripts took drugs and illicit substances to escape the reality, while others prayed or wept or beat their chests and boasted that they were not afraid, a little too loudly to convince anybody. But then the heavens moved and there was no more escaping the onslaught.

On the dark side of the planet, far from the harsh light of the star, came the first hints of the oncoming threat. The stars seemed to shimmer and distort as a multitude of shapes blocked them out and then every surveyor began to scream as the first Tyranids swam into range. From out of the dark they poured in endless waves, millions upon millions of gnarled, pitted Bio-ships swarming forward, already poised to strike. No two bio-ships were alike, each a unique creation formed by mutating genetics and lifetime in the void of space. Many had claws and tentacles with thorns the size of gunships, while others spewed lesser beings that dashed ahead of the main fleet. Gargantuan mouths frothed with pyro-acid, and sphincters dilated to reveal shards of chitin just waiting to be spat at distant targets. The Tyranids were endless in number and variety, yet what they all shared was a fearsome hunger and the will to crush anything in their path.

The fleet barrelled forwards heedless of danger or counter-attack, seemingly contemptuous of anything the defenders could do. The defenders were aghast at the numberless horde coming at them and many officers stood dumbfounded, unable to believe what they were seeing. Thankfully the machine spirits were not as limited and responded as their programming dictated. As the fleet approached, vast minefields came to life. Tiny little pods, containing a single servitor and a potent plasma bomb, defended mainly by their ability to lurk undetected. As soon as the enemy violated their perimeter the minefields awoke, each servitor performing their one and only duty to fire tiny manoeuvring jets and fling themselves at the fleet. The clouds of mines drifted inexorably at the Tyranids, who responded by disgorging waves of spores to block their path.

The two swarms met and merged like two clouds colliding and the night sky was illuminated by the flashes of plasma warheads detonating as the spores triggered proximity auspexs. The explosions were premature, but not wasted, for despite failing to reach the Bio-ships themselves they had cleared out the mass of spores. Adhering to a carefully planned out strategy, a second line of defence came alive, a mass of deadfall torpedo launchers just waiting for their opportunity. As one the torpedoes awoke and fired, each launch destroying their platform as they leapt clear. By lurking until the spore clouds had been cleared the Torpedoes had a clear run right into the heart of the fleet and they tore across space like bullets from a stubber. Slews of contrails dashed into the fleet and then separated, each warhead seeking out its own targets before detonating in bright blazes of plasma fire.

Clawed monstrosities were helpless to resist as the torpedoes sought them out and in moments scores of escorts and cruisers were torn asunder. Hides were penetrated, claws blown off and entrails scattered into the vacuum as the weapons completed their deadly work. Bio-ships trashed in agony and spewed living forms from their cavernous interiors as they sank into the cold embrace of death. The first salvo would have annihilated a conventional fleet, it would have left them a gutted and hollow force, but to the Tyranids it was the merest pinprick. The scores of vessels lost made no difference to the oncoming mass of chitin and the rest of the fleet poured past their defeated kin without the slightest pause.

Men shuddered in dread and fear to see the oncoming horde, but they held their ground and waited until the ranges shrank and at last the Tyranids were in weapons range. As one a hundred weapon platforms erupted, hurling shells and las, plasma and graviton beamers out into the void. There was little to no need to aim, so tightly packed were the Bio-ships that anything thrown out into the void was bound to hit something. Desperate men hurried to reload guns, firing frantically into the mass of heaving chitin bearing down on them. These were the desperate acts of hopeless men, but no man amongst them dared to think of doing anything else.

The Tyranids were taking heavy losses but they came on regardless, bearing down on the defences with unstoppable force. The Bio-ships closed into their own range and the mighty beasts opened their maws and flexed their musculature to spit out a torrent of organic weapons fire. Pyro-acid, shards of chitin and even living ammunition tore into the defence platforms, easily overpowering their shields. Men screamed as the walls dissolved around them, torn apart in the violence and melted in burning acid. Those caught in the blasts were lucky enough to be killed quickly, while the rest suffocated slowly in the breached compartments.

The battle closed into close quarters and all semblance of order disappeared, everywhere swirling combats raged as men and monsters fought for supremacy. Platforms ringed themselves in coronas of fire, even as vast clawed beasts grappled onto them and began stabbing with their rending claws. Fighters pinwheeled through the stars as leathery spores chased them and bombers were torn apart by swarms of tiny, living munitions. System ships blasted away at anything that moved while Defence Monitors slowly cruised along, surrounded by spears of fire. These puny ships could not hope to break the back of the invaders, but they were determined to inflict every last scrap of damage possible before they fell.

In the heart of the battle a trio of Starforts grouped together to form a bastion of resistance, their guns and lances tearing out over and over to eviscerate all within reach. The stations were surrounded by masses of dead flesh, a testament to the killing power of their mighty weapons. Chitin shards and pyro-acid scored their hulls but their armour was thick and their shields strong. Though battered and bruised the Starforts stood proudly and fought on. Again and again the stations fired rolling broadsides, each time claiming scores of kills with their lethal crossfires, but the Tyranids were swift to adapt.

From the heart of the massed fleet swarmed a cluster of bulky, heavy shapes, with thicker hides and reinforced carapaces. These were the feared Kraken, the line breakers of the Hive fleet and they tore into range in a scrum of gnashing fangs and eager claws. The Starforts saw them coming and tried to fend them off, but the Kraken's thick hides took the blasts with remarkable fortitude and only a handful rolled over in death. The Kraken dashed into close quarters and latched onto the Starforts, tearing and biting in a rabid feeding frenzy. Where distant gunnery had failed, raw brutal strength prevailed and the Kraken ripped into the stations with savage fury, breaking them open like a used ration can. One by one the Starforts fell silent, as their crew died and their innards were ripped out and in doing so a massive gap was breached in the defence line.

Sensing that the way was open the Tyranids poured into low orbit, unleashing waves of mycetic spores into the atmosphere. The surface weapons below greeted them with towers of light and fire, seeking to deny the attackers. Tragically there were not nearly enough of them to halt the tide and soon millions upon millions of Tyranid creatures were setting foot upon the surface. The battle still raged in orbit, but for all their valour the defenders had failed to stop the invasion. The Tyranids had broken through with sheer brute force and now were spreading out, encircling the planet with endless lines of Bio-ships and attacking the remaining defence platforms. With a safe corridor to approach the remaining Hive ship at last emerged from the teeming masses of the fleet, coming to direct the ground war in total confidence of victory.

However what the Tyranids could never understand was that the Imperium was not finished yet.

From behind the planetary terminus emerged a new threat, a shining spearhead of proud vessels sailing to war with the bright sunlight behind them. They had been held back from the battle as the last reserve, waiting for the Hive Ship to reveal itself. Now the time had come to strike and the Imperials moved to engage, charging forth in one last sally to break the foe or die trying.

The armada was surrounded by squadrons of escorts and Strike cruisers, creating a lance intended to pierce the heart of the foe. Yet the true power of the armada lay with its big guns, the proud Navy ships refitted and rearmed for one last battle. At the fore sailed the proud silhouette of the Agamemnon, followed closely by the Hektor, with its gunports open. Guarding the flanks were the Averof and the Kilkis, and behind them the deadly spear of the Cadmus and the Spetsai, their lances charged and ready. But greater yet was the pair of Battlebarges that sat at the heart of the Armada, the mighty Thunderlord and its glorious twin the Light of Terra.

This was the sum total of humanity's power in the stellar system, the greatest defence they could possibly muster. But it remained to be seen if this would be enough to withstand the battle to come.


	30. Chapter 30

**Fame Cimex Chapter 30**

From out of the burning light charged the Imperial fleet, racing to war with fury in their hearts and grim determination on every man's face. There was not one amongst them but who had not seen good friends sacrificed to the vile Xenos and they had sworn these sacrifices would not be in vain. Ancient and proud vessels, some of which had served for millennia, would face the enemy this day and once more brave the perils of war in the name of Mankind and the God-Emperor.

Facing them was a vast horde of Bio-ships, turning to bring their organic weapons to bear. Mouths gnashed in anticipation while claws twitched in eagerness to rend and tear, to once more taste the flesh of the foe. At the heart of the swarm sat the great Hive Ship, its rending claws as long as an escort frigate and filled with dormant horrors just waiting to be unleashed. The lesser beasts surrounded it like a shoal of pilot fish around a shark, sheltering it with their bulk. Yet the Tyranid's attack upon the planet had spread out their numbers too thinly, for the first time the Hive Ship had only a few dozen escorts. The Imperials would never have a better chance than right now and they were determined to seize it.

On the Light of Terra's bridge Captain Toran was stood upon the command dais, he was surveying the crew and making sure all was in readiness for the battle to come. With him were Chaplain Wrethan and Apothecary Memnos, while his Command squad were spread out around the stations, directing the serfs in their duties. Toran was satisfied that the ship was prepared and looked at his companions saying, "Father Wrethan, is Third Company prepared for what is to come?"

Wrethan replied, "They are Oathed to the Moment and eager for battle. I have spread them out to key positions around the ship in case of boarding actions."

Memnos was looking up at the Hololith and said, "Do you think this will come down to boarding actions?"

Wrethan replied, "Remember that Honourable Ajax insisted on being on board, I can think of no surer sign of that battle will find us than the presence of a Contemptor Dreadnought."

Toran nodded and said, "I am glad of his presence, but let us not forget our objective. That Hive Ship must die, nothing else matters and no sacrifice is too great to achieve that goal. Everything rests on killing that ship."

Memnos looked unconvinced as he said, "Kill the Hive ship, and break the Hive Mind's hold. Simple in theory but I suspect the execution will be far more challenging."

Suddenly there was a hail from the Sensorium and Brother Persion called, "Captain, we have a signal from Chapter Master Gorgall."

Toran replied, "Put him on ship-wide."

The vox horns crackled for a long moment and then a tinny voice came through on every deck declaring, "Sons of the Imperium, my Brothers, my cousins and my friends. We have come here today from far and wide, but we are united as one in purpose and in the Emperor's service. Today we shall be tested, today we shall be confronted by the cruelty and capriciousness of the universe itself. Yet know this: today we shall emerge victorious once again. This is the day you shall hold dearest to your hearts; this is the tale that you shall boast of for the rest of your lives. The tale of how the Imperium triumphed over the Tyranids at Angles' Redoubt! Now to battle men of the Imperium and know this, the Emperor expects that every man shall do his duty."

The bridge crew cheered at the speech and Toran knew that this would be repeated on every deck of the ship. He let them have the moment then called over to the helm, "Furion, take us at them!"

"Aye, aye Captain," Furion replied.

The great ship thrummed as the drives pushed it forward, closing the distance with inexorable momentum. The gap between the two forces shrank and then Persion called, "Sir, enemy approaching weapons range. Agamemnon and Kilkis preparing to fire their Nova Canons." Toran stared into the Hololith and counted down the seconds and then there was the brightest flare of light as the potent linear accelerators flung massive explosives into the heart of the Tyranid swarm. The display whited out for a moment and then returned, with a flurry of red icons where previously had been a concentration of Bio-ships. Toran called, "How much damage did we do?"

Persion lent over a servitor to read the display and called, "Minor drift from Kilkis but the Agamemnon was dead on, she hit a Razorfiend cruiser and crippled it."

Toran thumped the rail of the dais in celebration and called, "Signal Rear-Admiral Dousmanis and pass him our compliments on a fine shot! Now where are our torpedoes?"

From the Ordnance pulpit Novak called, "Torpedoes armed Captain, just waiting for your word."

Toran nodded but said, "Hold on, we must fire with the rest of the fleet. Wait for the signal from Chapter Master Gorgall." The crew waited with baited breath and then the then there was a chime from the communication arrays and Toran yelled "Fire!"

The Light of Terra shook hard as six torpedoes erupted from her prow on contrails of plasma wash, the great cylinders spinning slowly as they hunted for targets. They were joined by similar salvos from the Thunderlord and the Averof, along with those escort armed with torpedoes, to create a deadly wave of death. Toran watched the deadly fusillade dive towards the Tyranids, each warhead promising a swift death to its victim. Yet the Tyranids were not slow to respond, disgorging waves of fleshy horrors and clouds of spores to intercept the missiles. Toran called, "Signal Thunderhawks to intercept those strike craft, they must clear a path for the Torpedoes!"

Immediately darting arrowheads of gunships raced ahead, joined by Imperial Fury interceptors. They dove upon the Tyranid creatures with weapons blazing and in their first pass blasted apart hundreds of the small horrors. The Xenos turned to engage, creating a swirling mass of contorting contrails, men and Xenos desperately trying to kill each other in an insane ballet of destruction. Toran watched them in the Hololith and heard Memnos mutter, "They are badly outnumbered."

Wrethan answered, "They don't need to kill them all, just keep them busy long enough for the Torpedoes to slip by."

Suddenly Toran raised his arm and pointed saying, "Look, they've done it!"

Every eye turned to the Hololith and they saw that the Torpedoes had indeed slipped by the swirling dogfight, diving into the heart of the swarm and locking onto their targets. The Tyranids tried to twist and turn out their path but it was too late and the Torpedoes fell upon them like a shower of deadly arrowheads. Bright flares of plasma flashed over and over, each blast signalling the death of a Bio-ship in burning infernos of destruction. The attack burned cruisers and incinerated escorts far and wide, even those torpedoes that missed their first target swiftly finding new ones in the packed masses of the foe.

Once more the bridge crew cheered and Persion called, "Six escorts and a pair of Razorfiends confirmed killed!"

Wrethan cried, "The Divine Emperor favours us!"

Toran however was only half listening, looking at the Hololith and seeing a new pattern emerge. He said, "Look at that, we've blown a hole wide open in their ranks. The path to the Hive Ship is exposed."

It seemed Chapter Master Gorgall had reached the same conclusion for the vox crackled and his voice called, "All ships head for that gap, hit them with everything you've got and stop for nothing. We must destroy that Hive Ship at all costs."

Toran called, "You heard the order, take us in. Brace yourselves men, this is it!" With those words the Light of Terra surged forwards, charging into the heart of the foe with its weapon batteries gaping wide. The Tyranids responded in kind, barrelling forward like an avalanche of flesh, with weapons already spitting at the defiant Imperials. The Light of Terra's shields blazed as they took the brunt of the oncoming fire, feedback making her gravity generators convulse with overloads. The bridge shook and rocked under the impacts and every man held on as the ships rang like a great bell. From the Engineerium station Brother Bylan called, "+Shields are taking heavy fire, generators are straining to the limit+"

Toran barked, "They can take it, we have only have to endure this until the foe is in our firing arcs."

From the gunnery pews Brother Jediah called, "Permission to return fire?"

Toran replied, "Not yet, wait for them to come into range."

The ship shook and rang, the mighty shields turning opaque around it as shards of chitin and living ammunition impacted all around. Then in a flash of electromagnetic energy they blew out and the impacts began to ring upon the Light of Terra's thick armour. The bridge became a claustrophobic nightmare of noise and vibration, serfs being rattled and shook by the impacts. A stone gargoyle fell from on high, shattering upon the unforgiving deck and marring an ancient mosaic of the Chapter's icon. Bylan called, "+Impacts across all upper quarters, damage is mounting!+"

"Hold on!" Toran cried as he watched the Hololithic icons slowly crawl together. Then finally the Tyranids were in range of the Battlebarge's broadsides and he shouted, "All gun batteries, FIRE!"

From both sides of the Light of Terra's flanks surged enormous waves of ruin, shells, las, plasma and rockets all blasting away at point blank range. The Battlebarge seemed to be wreathed in a burning conflagration as men reloaded and fired over and over, seeking to inflict every last grain of damage that they could. The Tyranid swarms were annihilated under the weight of fire, torn apart to bleed out into the void. Escorts were obliterated in a torrent of shells and cruisers rolled over with gaping holes blasted into their hides. The Light of Terra had blasted clear a pocket of the horde, but she was alone, the rest of the fleet was still surrounded on all sides. On the bridge there was no more jubilation, every man bent to his task with total focus. The carnage they had wrecked had been remarkable, but they had yet to meet the Hive ship and the battle was far from over. Toran looked into the Hololith, trying to make out the rest of the fleet's progress and saw that they were beset on all sides. Each Imperial ship was surrounded by teeming horrors, pressing in from all vectors with weapons blazing.

The Thunderlord in particular was inundated by monstrous Bio-ships, that spat gobbets of Pyro-acid. Her hull burned and charred under the barrage, but she was undaunted and carried on firing, returning the punishment in kind. Yet despite all that it was the sight of the Kilkis that made Toran gasp. The Dominator cruiser had been ensnared by a pair of clawed fiends and they were tearing and gouging at her hull with wild abandon. Every blow ripping out compartments to spill screaming men into the void of space and the ship was rolling over, tumbling uncontrollably as it spiralled into death.

Memnos saw the sight and said, "Can't we do anything?"

Toran gritted his teeth, it was not that he could not do anything, it was that he would not. To turn and help the stricken ship would be to abandon his opportunity to strike at the Hive Ship and forsake any chance at victory. The Captain hardened his heart and left the doomed ship to its fate as he growled, "We can avenge them. Report, how far is to the Hive ship?"

Furion replied, "It's almost in range now."

Toran asked, "Has anyone else managed to break through?"

Persion answered, "Nobody else has made it through yet, we are on our own."

Toran growled, "So be it, we shall take on the Hive Ship ourselves. Brace yourselves men, it all comes down to us now."


	31. Chapter 31

**Fame Cimex Chapter 31**

Over Angle's Redoubt a terrible battle was joined, vastly outnumbered Imperial vessels blasting away continuously at hordes of Bio-ships which were closing from all sides. Escorts gathered their fire together to obliterate Bio-ship after Bio-ship while Strike Cruisers blasted away at the horde and Capital ships unloaded everything they had. Space was thick with exchanges of fire, shells, las and plasma being traded with shards of chitin, pyro-acid and living ammunition. Hulls were torn and ravaged while alien hides were blown open by the carnage. The devastation on both sides was creating a diffuse cloud of wreckage and dead bodies that drifted freely in the freezing emptiness.

The Bio-ships were spewing endless lines of spores that dove down on the Imperial hulls, each filled with clawed monstrosities just waiting to be unleashed. The flashing darts of fighter rose to meet them, pinwheeling around the Capital ships like swarms of flies as they sought to deny the attackers. For all their valour the fighters could not hold back every spore and many made it through to the embattled ships. They latched on like limpets and began chewing their way inside, punching through thick armour faster than any weapon could hope to emulate. On every ship fanged nightmares were unleashed as the spores vomited out their cargo, waves of chittering monsters racing to and fro as they willed. The Fleet slowed as ships were forced to divert crewmen to repel these boarders and every vessel was consumed by war, inside and without.

Far ahead of the rest of the fleet the Battlebarge Light of Terra was ploughing forward, her guns blazing continuously and her point defence turrets spitting streams of fire from every inch of her hull as Thunderhawks circled her diligently. She was alone and cut off, but if she could reach her target then she might yet turn the tide. On her bridge the tension could have been cut with a knife, the crew tending to their stations with feverish desperation, knowing that their lives hung in the balance. On the command dais Toran was shouting, "Concentrate all starboard batteries on those Vanguard drones off our dorsal flank. Portside batteries are slacking; tell the gun crews that they must improve their rate of fire."

From the gunnery pews Jediah called, "The crews are already working flat out; they request more time to reload."

Next to Toran Chaplain Wrethan stepped up and snarled, "Tell them this and please use these exact words… If they do not put their frakking backs into it I will personally come down there and flay the skin off each and every one of those worthless curs!"

The message was relayed and after a few moments the rate of fire did indeed increase, but there was no time to celebrate for Bylan was calling, "+Sir, forward Void shields are straining to the limit, they cant take much more of this+"

Toran sternly called, "Drain power from the rearward shields and channel it to the prow."

The crew hastened to obey but Apothecary Memnos said, "Risky, we are surrounded on all sides, they could break through the rear shields with ease."

Toran replied, "It is a risk we must take, the Hive ship is before us, we have to break through its escorts at all costs."

The battle raged on and the great ship rang and shook as the impacts came from all directions, the crew bending to their duties with admirable fortitude. The Light of Terra was taking a pounding but it was making progress, the distance to the target shrinking with every minute. The noise on the bridge was a cacophony of shouting and distant roars as the crew fought to keep the violence on the outside the ship. From the Ordnance pulpit Novak called, "Sir, Thunderhawks are reporting they have nearly expended their munitions, they must return to reloaded with utmost alacrity."

Toran replied sternly, "Have them return one squadron at a time, we must keep a CAP around the ship at all times or the boarding spores will break through. Flicker cycle the shields to let them in without exposing us to enemy fire."

The order was obeyed but suddenly Persion called, "Captain, we have a large group of vanguards coming in from above!"

Toran looked at the Hololith display and saw the formation of escorts closing rapidly; he drew in a breath and yelled, "Redeploy Bombardment Canons, give them a volley of Magma Bombs!"

The crew rushed to obey and all the Captain could do was hold on and watch as the great barrels of the canons came about, time stretched out and it seemed to take hours for the weapons to come to bear. Toran stared at the icons in the Hololith and fought the urge to shout at the crew to hurry, he above all had to show discipline under pressure. Finally the Bombardment cannons were raised and the Captain called, "Fire!"

A series of epic bursts of flame rose from the spine of the Battlebarge, flinging city-killing ordnance at the escorts. The shells crashed through their protective spore clouds with ease and detonated in cascading explosions that ripped the leading Bio-ships apart in showers of gore, like a bolter round exploding a man's body. The blasts engulfed the squadron and even those not caught in the explosion were buffeted by debris, forcing them aside and slowing them enough for the Battlebarge to break through. There were no cheers on the bridge for all knew that the battle was far from over and the true test was yet to come. Toran stared into the Hololith, seeing the teeming swarms all around. The Tyranid's numbers seemed endless and he knew it was only a matter of time until they broke through the Light of Terra's defences and ended her valiant charge. Then he spied something that made his hearts race, at last the image of the Hive Ship appeared, dead ahead and closing fast.

It was a titan of the void, miles long and pitted with impact craters and the scars of forgotten wars. It dwarfed any of its compatriots in every way imaginable, eclipsing their size and power with its awesome bulk and its hideous visage. Its flanks were festooned with bio-organic weapons ports and from its prow arose long rending claws, one of which was still shorn off halfway through from the previous battle. Everybody stared aghast and even Chaplain Wrethan was moved to say, "Look at the size of that thing, it's enormous!"

Memnos swallowed audibly and muttered, "You wouldn't happen to have any more tricks up your sleeve would you Captain? I think having another planet to blow up in their faces would be somewhat useful right now. "

Toran gritted his teeth and said, "Unfortunately not… but what I do have are Torpedoes. Novak, let us greet them with a volley."

The Ordnance crew hastened to obey and a minute later the ship rang with the vibrations of torpedoes launching. Everybody stared at the Hololith for long seconds, hoping against hope to inflict a punishing blow at the outset. Their hopes were cruelly dashed as a Razorfiend moved into the path of the volley, sacrificed by the Hive Mind to spare the critical Hive Ship.

The torpedoes were guided by simple logic engines and merely sought the first target they found, homing in on the Razorfiend and locking on. They plunged down upon it and detonated in massive flares of plasma, killing the Bio-ship instantly but leaving the Hive Ship untouched.

The groan of disappointment was audible and Memnos spat, "Accursed bugs, we almost had it."

Toran shook his head and said, "This was never going to be settled at long range, we shall have to get in close and show them what an Astartes warship can do in brawl. Furion take us across their port bow, I want us to cross their prow at point blank range. Jediah prepare a broadside, we are only going to get one shot that this, give me everything you've got!"

The Battlebarge swung about even as the swarms of escorts nipped at its heels, the Tyranids were relentless in their attacks but the Light of Terra had endured millennia of war and would not be stopped. Inexorably the distance closed until the Hive Ship loomed over the Astartes vessel, its alien appearance filling every surveyor screen, each one a picture of mutating genetic horror. Toran held on with baited breath waiting for the angles to be just right and then he cried, "Fire!"

With a cascade of lightning the weapons spoke, unleashing a storm of thunder into the silence of space. Torrents of destruction leapt from the Light of Terra, traversing the distance in heartbeats. Over and over the guns fired, the crews working frantically to reload even as their guns glowed red with heat and capacitors sparked and hissed all around them. The onslaught caught the Hive Ship dead on, blasting through its spore clouds to impact upon its hide. Massive craters were torn into its skin as the torrent came on and on, tearing, gouging and stabbing into its craggy hide and blowing chunks of flesh free. Great craters were chiselled into the Hive Ship, terrible scars that left it bleeding vile fluids and spilling ichor into the void. Yet all this was as nothing to the great bulk of the Tyranid creature and despite the damage it had taken it sailed on, contemptuous of the worst humanity could throw at it.

On the bridge men stood aghast at the sight of their weapons failing to hurt the beast and Memnos said, "What does it take to kill that thing?"

Wrethan growled, "Tyranids just don't know how to die."

Toran however was staring at the Hololith, perplexed by what he saw. The Hive Ship was before them, surrounded by its escorts, yet they weren't swarming forward to engage. Toran frowned in confusion, by any logical doctrine the Tyranids should be pouring on fire, but they were just hanging back.

Then Persion called, "Captain, the Hive Ship is picking up speed." Toran's organic eye widened as he realised the Tyranid's intent, seeing the mighty beast coming straight at them with its rending claws extended out towards the Battlebarge. It was like being caught in the path of a charging bull grox, only far, far more deadly.

Toran yelled in horror, "All power to the engines, turn us hard-a-starboard. They're going to ram!"

But Furion shouted from the helm, "It's too late!"

With dread inevitably the Hive Ship bore down upon the helpless Battlebarge, surging forwards with its claws outstretched in eagerness to latch on to its prey. The Light of Terra fired its engines desperately as it tried to get away, but it was futile and like two passenger trains colliding the massive ships smashed together in a heap of metal and flesh. As they impacted the rending claws stabbed down, breaking apart thick armour and reinforced internal braces to plunge deeply within the Astartes vessel. The claws drove into the Battlebarge's guts, fusing the two ships into one tangled mass of wreckage. On the bridge men were thrown from their stations by the force of the collision, rolling helplessly as their world tilted madly and the floor became a wall. Toran was clinging onto the rail and shouted, "Damage report!"

Bylan answered, "+Massive damage to the superstructure, we have breaches in decks five, fourteen, twenty-seven, forty-nine and seventy-six!+"

Toran grimaced and shouted, "We can't take much more of this, have to break free!"

Furion replied from the helm where he was hanging on, "Power is disrupted across the whole ship; we can't even manoeuvre, let alone break free from this death grip."

Before the Captain could speak again Bylan cried, "+Sir, I have reports of boarders in the breached compartments, the Tyranids are pouring from the claws, they are acting like boarding tubes!+"

Toran looked at the bridge crew and knew that they did not have enough time to find a solution to this crisis. The Tyranids would overrun the ship swiftly unless he did something to stop them. Toran forced himself up and drew his sword as he declared, "All Battle-Brothers come with me, we must stem the tide long enough for the crew to restore power and break us free. Send a message to Third Company to move out and commence counter boarding actions, we will meet them en-route. And somebody signal Venerable Ajax, tell him that his skills are required."


	32. Chapter 32

**Fame Cimex Chapter 32**

The Hormagaunt pounced forwards with bestial fury written all over its face, its claws outstretched ready to strike and its maw wide. Toran met it with the sword of Thiel, plunging the blade within its chest and pinning it like an insect. He shook off the corpse and then he smote the next one in line and the next and the next. All around him the Tyranid boarders pressed in, but he was resolute and fought them back with wide sweeps of his blade, hacking off limbs and ripping apart thoraxes with every blow.

All around him Third Company fought on, the various squads having come together in the white heat of combat to defend the Light of Terra from the Tyranid boarders. The corridors of the ship writhed with endless hordes of snapping monsters, but the Space Marines were undaunted and fought on to defend the critical junctions of the ship. Currently they were fighting in a nexus of the ship's access ways, filled wall to wall with gibbering, fanged monstrosities. Toran sliced and smashed and hacked at everything he saw, his body stoked with hyper-adrenaline and flushed with combat stimms from his armour. To his left Furion was battering a warrior form down with sheer brute force, while to his right Bylan held the Company Standard high for all to see and draw inspiration from. Almost a hundred Space Marines were spread out along a thin line, hacking away with combat blades in the close quarter's battle, every Marine determined to sell his life dearly. They fought hard and stoically, giving their all to hold back the tide of horrors, but the truth was they would have been lost without the presence of Honourable Ajax.

The Contemptor Dreadnought was at the centre of the melee, anchoring the line with his height and bulk. His mighty power fist smashed knots of enemies apart, sending broken, bleeding bodies flying over the mass of foes in crumpled heaps. He set them alight with his built-in flamer and crushed them under his great weight, staining his mechanical feet with vile ichor. Tyranids tried to surround him and stab into his piston joints but the Dreadnought denied them at every turn, shattering all within his reach. Toran was just behind the venerable ancient and hacked down a Guant trying to skitter up to the Dreadnought's rear. He felt like he had been fighting for many hours but his helm was telling him it had been less than one since the Hive Ship had latched onto the Battlebarge.

To his right Bylan blasted a Guant with his bolt pistol and said, "+How many are there?!+"

Furion cried aloud in answer, "It matters not, for they shall not break us. In the Emperor's name we shall never yield. No Mercy, No Respite, No Fear!"

Toran however was distracted by the sight of a looming shadow, a massive form towering over the lesser beasts. It was swollen with obscene muscles, thick chitin and gigantic crushing claws that threw aside smaller creatures and squished them under its weight as it barrelled forward with unstoppable momentum. Toran felt dread edge into his consciousness and he yelled, "Carnifex… Carnifex!"

Ajax however was already in motion, lowering his assault cannon and spinning it up to speed as he bellowed, "SUFFER NOT THE ALIEN TO LIVE." A tongue of fire erupted from his canon and the effect on the horde could not have been surpassed by a threshing machine. Bodies were blown in half under the weight of fire, breaking them apart and ripping hardened carapaces to shreds. Ajax panned his fire left and right, carving apart all he hit and clearing a path to the oncoming Carnifex. The Dreadnought took a lumbering step forward, crushing broken bones under his weight, then another as he charged right at the Tyranid monster. The Carnifex hissed loudly as it rumbled forward, claws already snapping and with a thunderous crash the two mighty behemoths smashed into each other. The impact shook the deck while their roars and bellows would have shattered mortal eardrums .

Ajax smashed his power fist into the reinforced carapace, tearing out great chunks with every blow. In return the Carnifex chopped down with its gnarled claws, cracking the Dreadnought's armour and sending splinters flying. The power of the two combatants was staggering, a clash of titans that made the surrounding melee seem insignificant in comparison. The Carnifex roared as it lashed out, gouging a great tear from the Dreadnought's thigh armour, but Ajax returned an uppercut that sent it staggering back. The Carnifex rallied and leapt at Ajax with its maw wide open, a long proboscis snapping out at his sensor dome. The dart smashed into an eye lens and sent arcane optic circuits flying, spraying around in a shower of broken parts, but with his organic remains safe inside his sarcophagus Ajax was unbowed. The Carnifex paused, seemingly confused why its opponent was unfazed by losing an eye.

Ajax hammered back with a blow from his power fist and managed to knock the Carnifex back a step, then he brought up his assault cannon and levelled it in preparation to fire. The Tyranid was faster though, snapping out to catch the spinning barrels in a great claw. It growled as it applied overwhelming pressure and with the shriek of tearing metal the barrels collapsed, splintered into mangled wreckage. Ajax roared in fury and snapped his bulk forward, head-butting the Carnifex back. The monster recovered swiftly, hissing as it opened its mouth again and making its proboscis quiver in readiness to strike. Ajax struck like lightning, plunging his fist forward and catching it by the jaw, two of his mechanical fingers clamped inside its fanged maw. The Carnifex paused in surprise and in that moment Ajax heaved his fist back, ripping free the entire lower jaw and taking the proboscis with it. The Carnifex collapsed in agony and Ajax stepped forward, he raised his great fist high and cried, "GET OFF MY SHIP!" With those words he brought the fist down right upon the Carnifex's head, shattering its skull and spraying brains all over the area.

The whole the battle seemed to pause as the Carnifex collapsed, the whole balance of the battle shifting now that the great monster was dead. Toran saw it all happen and roared as he led his men forwards, cutting down all before them and carving apart the hordes of Tyranids. With the Carnifex dead the Tyranids were no match for the Storm Heralds and they swiftly cleared the area, killing every last beast down to the last Gaunt.

Silence fell as the Space Marines took stock, seeing the defeat of these foes but knowing that there were countless more still pouring into the ship with every moment. Toran was standing over the body of the last gaunt he had slain, resisting the urge to lean over and gasp for air. He had been fighting for hours and even his transhuman body had its limits but he knew that his Marines were equally wearied by the battle and needed to see that their Captain was undaunted. He forced himself to stand stiffly at attention and looked about, seeing the dead and wounded all around being tended to by Apothecary Memnos and the last rites being given by Chaplain Wrethan.

The command squad gathered about the Captain, their weapons stained with ichor and Bylan proclaimed, "+We did it+"

He was disabused of that notion by Ajax who growled, "DO NOT BE SO CONFIDENT, THIS WAS BUT ONE BATTLE. THE SHIP IS BEING OVERRUN BY MILLIONS OF THESE HORRORS; WE HAVE BOUGHT NOTHING BUT TIME HERE."

Toran nodded, knowing this battle was far from over and for the first time took a moment to count the heads of those assembled. The fighting had drawn most of the Third Company together, the various Sergeants all responding to the call to unite… with one exception. Toran frowned as he realised that Sergeant Priyar's tactical squad had never arrived and he opened his vox link calling, "Sergeant Priyar this is Captain Toran, report your location and status immediately."

The vox crackled for a moment and then a tinny voice came back, distorted by the sounds of heavy fighting in the background, "Captain, this is Sergeant Priyar. We are in the Engineerium section and under heavy assault, the Tyranids are massing here in overwhelming numbers."

Toran waved his squads to form up as he called, "Sergeant fall back and withdraw, we are moving to your location to support you."

Priyar however said, "Negative Captain, negative. The enemy are too many, if we leave cover we will die. There is more, the plasma reactors are at critical mass, the Enginseers say that they will overload in minutes."

Toran's jaw dropped and he said, "Hold on Sergeant, we will come to you and stop the overload before it destroys the ship."

There was a long pause and then Priyar said, "Captain, you misunderstand me, we are not trying to stop it. My squad is holding the Tyranids off so the Tech-Priests can enact the rite of Self-Immolation."

Toran couldn't believe what he was hearing and said, "What?! Why would you do that?"

It was Ajax who answered him saying, "THE HIVE SHIP IS TOO POWERFUL TO DEFEAT CONVENTIONALLY, BUT RIGHT NOW IT IS LATCHED ONTO US. IF THE REACTORS OVERLOAD THE BLASTS COULD WELL FINISH OFF THAT MONSTER AND BREAK THE HIVE MIND UTTERLY."

Toran saw the truth of the statement and knew that it was irrefutable but he still said, "Priyar we hear you, set the overload in motion and then withdraw, we can still extract you."

However Priyar's voice came back saying, "Captain, that's not going to happen. The Tyranids press forwards even now, they must sense what we are attempting. Somebody has to hold this line right up until the end."

Everybody shared a significant look and Bylan said, "+But we can't leave him to die... we just can't+"

Toran however was looking at Furion, whose steady unwavering gaze was fixed firmly on the Captain. Toran's mind flashed back to their previous conversations and he thought of all the losses he had endured, all the sacrifices he had made. Toran knew that many thought him too naive and too young to lead and in his hearts even he didn't know if he had the steel to make the necessary sacrifices for victory. Toran knew that there was no way to save the ship and this action could the turn the tide of the whole war, but the cost was high, so very, very high.

Toran had had never knowingly left a squad to die before, could he do it now?

Something in the Captain's soul died as Toran made his decision, a decision only a few weeks before he would never have even considered making. Grimly he proclaimed, "All squads are to fall back to the Thunderhawks, we are leaving. Persion raise the bridge, tell them to sound the general order to abandon ship, all hands will abandon ship."

Bylan sounded aghast as he said, "+No, no, no… not that, surely not+"

But Priyar's voice came back over the vox saying, "Captain, it's the right call and you know it."

Toran swallowed his shame, knowing he had just ordered ten heroic Astartes to their deaths as he said, "Priyar… tell your squad that I will see all your names carved into the Rock of Heroes for this."

Priyar snorted one last time and said, "Captain don't you remember, we blew that up ages ago."

Toran replied in total seriousness, "Then I will get them to erect a new one and personally see to it that your names are the first to be carved upon it."

There was a moment's pause and then Priyar said solemnly, "Goodbye Captain, it has been an honour to serve alongside you. I wish you well in the wars to come and know that my squad could ask for no better deaths than these."

Toran swallowed in apprehension, knowing that he would never speak to the Sergeant again. He forced his sorrow down and said, "Priyar… Fight hard and die proud my friend."

Priyar said in return, "I will see you again Toran, by the Emperor's side."

"Until then," responded Toran, making his final goodbyes, "You will never be forgotten."


	33. Chapter 33

**Fame Cimex Chapter 33**

The Engineerium was a place of power in the most literal sense, filled with gigantic furnaces and towering reactor stacks. Ancient baroque machines purred away doing mysterious tasks and fat lightning bolts arced between randomly placed pylons. The heat was incredible and the background radiation levels were troubling high, the result of poorly understood technology and shoddily constructed shielding devices. At the best of times life here was short and brutal, men being sacrificed so that humanity could possess starflight and this was hardly the best of times.

Between the soaring reactors surged endless waves of alien invaders, a veritable tidal wave of chitin pouring into the compartment from every hatch. There were thousands of Hormagaunts, Warriors, Ravenors and Rippers, an ocean of pale skin and purple chitin each one bearing long claws and sharp fangs. The tide just kept coming and coming and coming, the Tyranids were countless in numbers and seemingly frantic to get inside. Their alien minds may have been utterly incomprehensible to men, but their determination to secure the Engineerium was unmistakable.

Against this tide stood a line of blue ceramite, ten Storm Heralds alone and unsupported before the might of the Tyranid race. They were fighting tooth and nail to hold the line, their bolters long since exhausted, now they were reduced to using combat blades and bolt pistols to resist the horde of travesties surrounding them. Amongst their number was Sergeant Priyar, he was battered and scarred while his power armour was a ragged mess of cuts and gouges. He was wielding a half-empty bolt pistol, down to its last clip and his Power Maul which was engraved with litanies of Detestation.

Priyar was being beset by three Guants at once, trying to smother him in trashing, clawed bodies. Priyar dodged a claw that swept by his face and stepped back; he increased the yield of his maul and swept it about to smash into the skull of the nearest Tyranid. The weapon's energy field destroyed the head of the beast instantly and the resulting blast wave knocked the other two back, buying him a second's respite. Priyar took a moment to glance about, seeing the situation and assessing the battle. The Sergeant had known he lacked the numbers to hold the vast Engineerium so had gathered his Marines at a choke point, a set of ascending metal steps between two reactors casings that led up to a narrow gantry some thirty feet above. Standing upon that gantry was Brother Adreal, wielding the squad's Heavy Bolter and firing down continuously into the horde. His weapon blazed away, heedless of the ammunition it was expending, but then none of them would live long enough for it to matter.

Priyar knew the battle here was but a holding action, his only goal to delay the Tyranid's advance long enough for the Tech-Adepts and Enginseers to complete their rituals. They were currently high above him in a small control room attached to the gantry, exhorting the Machine Spirits to enact the Rite of Self-Immolation. This would destroy the Light of Terra but in doing so take the Hive Ship with it. Priyar had just spoken to Captain Toran and informed him of the plan; he could only hope that he had given enough warning for Third Company to evacuate to a safe distance. There was no way to delay the countdown or pause the Rite, and Priyar knew that if the Captain did not get his Marines out first then they would all die here.

Priyar was standing upon the metal steps and he saw a Warrior form jump up towards him. He met it with a sweep of his power maul that blasted free a clawed limb, then he followed up with a blow to the sternum that collapsed its chest inwards. Priyar kicked the corpse back into the teeming horde pressing up the steps and called over the vox, "Honoured Adepts, the foe is advancing, we cannot hold much longer!"

A monotone voice answered him saying, "My lord, the Machine Spirits are most reluctant, we struggle to disengage the safety geas upon the coolant systems. You must buy us more time to complete our Rite."

Priyar growled in frustration and said, "Make haste then, we shall lay down our lives to defend you, but that will only delay the foe for so long."

The Tyranid horde hissed as it surged forward, pouring up the steps in an avalanche of flesh. The squad met them with faith and fury, hacking and stabbing with every last fibre of their being. The horde pressed them backwards step after step, but every inch was bought with blood and the Space Marines were reaping a fearful tally. Priyar raised his maul high and cried loudly for them all to hear, "Fight on Space Marines, the eyes of the Emperor rest upon us and we shall not fail him! So long as one Storm Herald still stands we are not defeated!"

The squad redoubled their efforts and fought on even harder, hacking and slashing away at the wall of flesh coming at them. Priyar had never been one for glory and fame, telling his squad to seek only to be the best Astartes they could be, yet he had never seen greater feats of valour or courage. His men fought like lions, killing everything that came up those steps. Their every blow slew an enemy and the stairs grew wet with spilled alien blood. The Space Marines ignored it though, never relenting in their determination to hold back the tide. This was more than a battle it was a model of humanity's struggle to survive in a malevolent cosmos. An endless tide of horror that only increased in numbers, set against the strength and courage of mankind's champions. Held at bay only by Humanity's stubborn refusal to yield, no matter what the odds may have to say.

Priyar heard his squads exhortations even over the noise of the battle and was made proud by cries of "Alien Fiends! Taste my fury! None shall pass! For the Emperor!" Hatred was in their hearts, death was in their hands and the Tyranids were torn asunder, body after body falling to be trampled under the hooves and claws of the rest of the horde. Yet for all their bravery and skill the Space Marines remained vastly outnumbered and despite all their valour, they were assuredly doomed.

Brother Cyias was the first to fall, dragged down by a dozen fanged monsters. He was joined moments later by Brother Movaan, who was snared by a Warrior's lash and dragged out of position, pulled down into the horde before being torn to shreds. Brother Gorfan held the squad's flamer and he was unleashing long bursts of promethium to drive the horde back. Guants writhed and hissed as they died in the inferno yet from the flames arose a sinuous Ravenor, its carapace scorched and blackened from the heat. It moved like lightning and before Gorfan could react it had dashed forwards and stabbed down with its claws, plunging long talons through his breastplate into his hearts.

Next to him Brother Khalus was fending off a Warrior form that battered at his plate. He held it at bay with grim determination but failed to realise that this was merely a distraction. From below another Warrior had climbed the underside of the steps and as he battled on, it ripped the stairs out from beneath his feet. Khalus simply disappeared into a gaping hole, falling into the horde below which rolled over him in a frenzied wave. Priyar snarled to see good Astartes laid low and swung his maul wide, blasting aside a dozen lesser beasts. He knew that the tide was turning against the Space Marines and they could not hold on much longer. Death was inevitable yet every minute they delayed the Tyranids was a victory in itself, a minute more for the Company to escape and the Adepts to finish their Rites. Over the noise Priyar roared to the squad, "This is the moment you have waited for all your lives, the chance to show the universe how an Astartes dies!"

The squad gritted their teeth and fought on but seconds later Brother Avixus was beset by a swarm of Rippers, the tiny creatures scaling his armour in a living carpet to cover him head to toe. He never ceased to fight even as they chewed their way through the armour's seals, tearing at the flesh beneath. Avixus fought on to the last, never dropping his weapon until the moment he keeled over in death. Next to him Brother Ronius was ensnared by the jaws of a Warrior, its long fangs sinking into his arm and pinning him still. He did not hesitate though, snatching a Frag grenade from his belt and flicking off the pin one-handed. He shoved the grenade into a black eye socket and held it there as the explosive went off, taking them both to the grave in a flash of light and shrapnel.

The battle hung on a knife's edge, but then from the back of the horde arose a torrent of shooting, rising above the heads of the remaining Astartes. Priyar was confused for a moment until he heard the thunder of the Heavy Bolter ceasing and a second later saw Brother Adreal's body toppling over the gantry railing, huge holes chewed in his armour by living ammunition. With the suppressing fire gone the Tyranids surged forward, catching Brothers Finial and Axac in a frenzy of claws. Priyar saw their life signs go dead in his helm and snarled in anger as he realised that he was now the last one of the squad left alive. The Tyranids surged up the stairs to claim victory, but Priyar knocked the first of them aside with a blast of energy from his maul and roared at the top of his voice, "Last Man Standing and still we are not beaten!"

The Tyranids ignored his cry and redoubled their efforts, but Priyar was already in motion. He raised his maul high and in one sweep smashed it into the stairs, blasting a massive shockwave through the metal. The narrow staircase crumpled under the blow and then began to collapse, taking the massed Tyranids with it in a piled heap. Priyar however had leapt backwards, stumbling onto the gantry itself. He found himself standing thirty feet over the massed horde with nowhere left to fall back to anymore. The Tyranids stared at him with hunger in their eyes and many began clawing at the walls, starting to climb their way up inch by inch. Priyar knew that he had bought but a moment and called, "Adepts, adepts can you hear me?" but there was no reply. Perhaps they had succeeded in their rite, perhaps they had failed, but in truth none of that mattered now.

Priyar looked over the endless horde of Tyranids poised below him, filling the Engineerium from wall to wall. They writhed in eagerness to reach him, a thousand claws waiting to tear at him, a million fangs waiting to taste his flesh. Priyar knew this was the moment of his death and all other concerns fell by the wayside. The war, the Imperium, the Company, even his own life, he forgot it all as he embraced the reality of his situation. Death was upon him and all that remained was to choose how he would face it.

Priyar reached up and wrenched off his helm, wanting to look his enemy in the eye. He breathed for a moment, simply breathing to centre himself, then he made his choice. Priyar raised his maul vertically before his lips to honour his weapon's spirit, valiant to the last, and he whispered, "We are the Emperor's Storm." Then the Sergeant steeled himself, he took a step and then another, throwing himself off the gantry to sail out high above the horde. Priyar held his power maul in an iron grip as he leapt into the air and saw the Tyranids below raise their claws to greet him, a forest of razor sharp knives spread out before him.

Priyar smiled as he plunged towards the waiting masses, falling like a thunderbolt from above and as he soared towards his death he cried aloud, "We are His Wrath!"


	34. Chapter 34

**Fame Cimex Chapter 34**

The darkness of space was filled with horrors, writhing tentacled beasts swirling in great swarms in every direction. They moved like shoals of fish in deep currents, blotting out their stars with their vast bulk and teeming numbers. In the centre of this mass were two greater bodies, one of flesh and Chitin the other of Plasteel and Adamantium. They were the Light of the Terra and the Hive Ship, locked together in a deadly embrace, a death roll that could only end one way.

Yet all over the Light of Terra the situation was changing, tiny little bursts of light erupting from all over its hull. These were the tiny pinpricks of Saviour Pods ejecting, each one carrying a score of men away from the fight on contrails of short burning plasma thrust. They flew out in all directions, fleeing the battle and seeking the safety of the void. As they fled the pods were set upon by tiny Tyranid hunters, fleshy beasts that ripped and tore the pods apart to get at the flesh inside. Hundreds of men who had thought they had reached safety were cruelly disappointed when their sanctuary's were torn open and the lucky ones were those who suffocated to death before the Tyranids started to feast.

Still there were thousands of pods fleeing and many did manage to avoid the hunters, left to drift among the stars until they were either rescued or dragged down by the planet's gravity well. However they were not alone, for another type of evacuation was taking place simultaneously. From the Light of Terra's prow shot a cruciform shape, then another and another, more and more forming lines of swift darts shooting into space with guns blazing. They were Thunderhawk gunships and they were carrying the bulk of Third Company away from the battle.

Aboard the lead Thunderhawk Captain Toran and his Command Squad were strapped into their restraint cages, along with a score of other Brothers. He had led the desperate race to the bay in record time and urged his Marines aboard. Many squads had ended up scattered across the various gunships, but that had been a low priority at the time. Toran was hanging on to the juddering restraint cage, feeling the craft lurch and twist as the pilots avoided colliding with whatever was out there, while the guns thundered constantly. Toran intensely disliked being helpless like this, putting his life in the hands of another but there was no other choice. He looked about and saw the various Brothers similarly troubled by the situation. Some he knew well, others were new faces, but all were equally determined to show no fear.

He was distracted by the voice of Furion saying, "Did anyone see if Honourable Ajax made it out?"

Persion answered him, "Yes, I saw him board one of the other Thunderhawks with Chaplain Wrethan."

"Good," Furion replied, "I was concerned he was too slow to keep up."

Toran broke in to say, "I left too many good brothers behind this day, I was not about to leave another one behind."

Furion looked at him and said, "Captain it was a hard decision but it was the right one. Priyar knew what was required of him; every Brother would do the same in his place."

Toran did not reply, it was one thing to lay down one's life for a worthy cause, it was quite another to order someone else to do so. It gnawed at his soul but he did not speak of it, a Captain could hardly complain in front of his troops after all. Thankfully Persion interrupted saying, "Do you think Priyar succeeded ?"

Toran said, "Let me look" as he utilised his Command codes to wed his armour's spirit with the gunship's and reveal the exterior pict images. His vision washed out and was replaced by a grainy image, slowly coming into focus. Toran paused and checked an icon and sighed, sure enough Persion was tagging along, with his usual disregard for comms protocols and command privileges. Toran looked into his display and saw an image taken from the rearward picters of the Thunderhawk, revealing the pair of great vessels still locked into their deadly embrace. The Hive Ship had rooted itself into the Battlebarge, its rending claws pulsing and swelling obscenely as they disgorged Tyranid creatures into the bowels of the ship. The Light of Terra however was going dark and silent, its crew absent and its systems shutting down. There was no sign if Priyar's sacrifice had been worthwhile, no indication that the ship was on a course for self-destruction.

Persion sounded anxious as he said, "How long is this supposed to take?"

Toran said, "I do not…"

Suddenly there was a bright magnesium flare from the Light of Terra, a quartet of plasma streams spitting out from its engines towards each cardinal point. It was achingly bright and beautiful to look upon, but it was not the destruction they had sought. This was merely the reactors venting excess energy, trying to avert catastrophe. Toran fretted for a second that they had failed, that the Machine Spirits had overridden the Rite of Self-Immolation. But he need not have worried, for this was too little too late, the cascade overload had reached critical mass and the reactors were moments away from breaching.

The Hive Ship reacted instantly, trying to rip its claws free and break off but it was too slow and before it could escape the Light of Terra detonated. The sequence of events took two seconds to play out, but to Toran's enhanced senses it looked like minutes. Firstly, the rear of the Battlebarge seemed to swell, bursting at the seams as incandescent light poured out of the emerging cracks in the hull. Then a massive ball of blue light and flame was born, blowing the rear half of the ship outwards, engulfing the surrounding area in an inferno of star hot destruction. The wave of annihilation was not done yet, it surged up the plasma conduits of the surviving front section, blowing each compartment apart in turn like a line of firecrackers. Explosion after explosion travelled the remainder of the ship, annihilating the Light of Terra utterly and transforming it into a trillion pieces of burning, spinning metal. The debris soared outwards, filling the void and slamming into surrounding Bio-ships, turning space itself into a massive nail bomb.

The Hive Ship disappeared in an expanding ball of fire and shrapnel, sinking into an inferno of destruction. Persion cried aloud, "Yes, yes he did it! Priyar did it!"

Toran however shouted, "Everybody, Brace for Impact!"

The Thunderhawk shook and rang as the wave of destruction overtook it, pelting the hull with metal shards and making it ring like a bell. The gunship bucked hard, rattling everybody's teeth and making helms slam into the restraint cages. Then there was the distinct shriek of the hull being penetrated,followed by the sound of air hissing out as it vented through micro-fractures in the hull. Thankfully the Astartes were all wearing their helms and their armour's Machine Spirits immediately engaged void seals as they detected the drop in pressure.

Everybody switched to the vox and Furion asked, "Did we do it... is it dead?"

Toran peered into his display as he said, "Give me a second."

In the image the fireball was dissipating, the light and fury spent in one moment of destruction. Toran waited impatiently as the image cleared and then he saw what remained. The Light of Terra was gone, a mighty Battlebarge that had given millennia of service reduced to drifting atoms in seconds. The Hive Ship however was still there, its rending claws gone and its hide scored by long burns along its flanks. The front half of the beast seemed melted, distorted and twisted like a burn victim's skin, yet it was still twitching and moving: it was still alive.

Persion gasped, "Oh no… how can it be. What does it take to kill that thing?!"

Toran however was looking closer and said, "No wait… give it a second."

As they watched the Hive Ship began to convulse, trashing in an agonised frenzy as long rips began to form in its weakened hide. The Hive Ship contorted and writhed like a drowning man as blood and ichor began to spill into the void, followed by blackened organs and scorched entrails from its guts. It's maw opened and it vomited a stream of blood and bile, peppered with lesser beasts from its birthing chambers. For long seconds the Hive Ship convulsed painfully and then finally it keeled over, going still and inert as death finally claimed it.

Persion cried aloud, "Its dead, its dead!"

The vox waves filled with cheers as the Astartes raised their fists in celebration and Furion declared, "Heroes of the Imperium, may their names never be forgotten. Glory to the Emperor, glory to Priyar and his squad."

As one the initiates took up the cry shouting, "Glory to the Emperor, Glory to Priyar!"

Toran felt their elation but he was still looking out into space, seeing the effect upon the rest of the Tyranids. All around the order of the fleet was disintegrating, each Bio-ship suddenly veering off course and seemingly lost without the direction of the Hive Mind. Carefully constructed lines of battle collapsed as the swarms broke up, many turning aimlessly in the void and some even setting upon each other in confused instinctual behaviour. The Tyranids were lost and adrift, directionless without the Hive Mind to guide them and the single deadly swarm turned into a billion individuals, each fighting their own war for their own purposes. The swarm drifted apart, each Bio-ship losing interest in their fellows and seeking only their own survival. Many Bio-ships turned their prows away from the planet, putting the world to their sterns and fleeing for the safety of deep space. Toran watched them go and knew the tide had turned, the Imperium had broken the will of the foe, all that remained was to finish them off.

Toran swept his viewpoint about and saw the distant flashes of weapon's fire, a sign that the Imperial fleet was still battling on. He magnified his vision and saw the welcome sight of Admantium prows and plasteel hulls, still fighting on even now. Waves of escorts and Strike Cruisers were blasting away at the foe, protecting the flanks of the great Capital ships. There was the Agamemnon, riding high like a queen of the void and there was the Hektor, stoutly battling on like the old warhorse she was. Toran saw the Averof in the thick of the fighting, punching away like the fiercest of pugilists while the Cadmus and the Spetsai were working together, eviscerating enemies with their paired lance weapons. Then he finally saw what he was looking for, the blessed sight of the Battlebarge Thunderlord, still fighting on and seemingly undaunted by the deep scars she had earned. The Imperials were obliterating all within reach, the scattered and broken Tyranids unable to put up any real resistance to the vengeful human warships. Even as the Xeno's turned to flee the Imperials pressed their advantage, wrecking a fearful tally on the confused foe and making them pay for daring to encroach upon one of the Emperor's worlds.

It seemed the Tyranid fleet had had enough and they tried to break off, fleeing in droves before the retribution set upon them. The Imperials in turn gave chase, weapons firing over and over to annihilate the aliens, determined to catch and kill as many as they could. Toran breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Pilots set a course for the Thunderlord, we must regroup with the rest of the Chapter."

As the gunship spun about and accelerated Persion asked, "Is it over then, did we win?"

Toran replied, "No it is not over, but victory is within our grasp, all that remains is to seize it. We shall join our brethren and assist them in wiping out every last Tyranids creature here and on the surface. Trust me when I say that we shall make them pay for thinking that they could challenge the Imperium of Man."


	35. Chapter 35

**Fame Cimex Chapter 35**

Over Angle's Redoubt the orbital lanes teemed with debris, the burnt husks of defence platforms, fighter and system ship all reduced to charred wreckage. They were mixed freely with the gutted remnants of Tyranid Bio-ships, the fleshy entrails forming long strings of bloody ice in the frozen void. The devastation was immense, the defences had been torn to shreds and only a handful of stations remained intact One of those was the Inquisitorial starfort, back in its own vector and acting as if nothing had ever happened.

Cruising through the wreckage was the proud Imperial fleet, the capital ships prowling over the world as shining declaration of triumph. The Escorts and Strike Cruisers were absent, still chasing the scattered survivors of the Splinter fleet, but the Capital ships had been too slow to give chase and so had remained on station. Now they moved with stately grace, each one's hull flashing with the lights of arc welders and repair teams making essential repairs to the deep scars torn into their hulls. A full refit would be required in time but for now they had to be content with what repairs could be made on station.

At the head of the flotilla was the Battlebarge Thunderlord, lording over all like a sovereign holding court. Occasionally her bombardment canons would train upon the world below and unleash a volley, sending Magma Bombs hurtling to the ground to impact in the wastes between Hive Cities. The Tyranid fleet may have been broken but they had still landing millions of killer upon the surface and the war to cleanse this world would still take months to conclude.

Watching all this from the Battlebarge's observation dome were a trio of transhuman figures, one was Captain Toran, the other Shade-Seer Imix in his occultly decorated armour. The last member of the party was the Dreadnought Ajax, who was leaning back to stare at the world beyond the dome with his one good optic lens. Ajax said, "THE HIVE MIND MAY HAVE BEEN BROKEN BUT THE FIGHT IS NOT FINISHED YET, I MUST SOON DEPART FOR THE SURFACE TO SEE THIS WAR IS BROUGHT TO A SWIFT END."

Toran nodded and said, "Third Company will be joining you as soon as we finish ensuring orbital space is clear, I look forward to fighting next to you again."

Ajax turned to face him and growled, "SEE THAT YOU DO, I GROW WEARY ONCE MORE AND MUST SOON RETURN TO MY SLUMBER. BEFORE I DO SO, I NEED TO ENSURE THAT THE CHAPTER IS IN GOOD HANDS, THIS DISPUTE AMONGST THE MASTERS CANNOT CONTINUE."

Toran agreed saying, "This victory goes a long way to cementing Chapter Master Gorgall's position, we will soon have this Chapter back on the straight and narrow."

Ajax didn't seem convinced and said, "I WILL BE THE JUDGE OF THAT, TELL THE MASTERS THAT I SHALL BE KEEPING AN EYE ON THEM."

With those words the Dreadnought turned and marched out, making the deck plates ring beneath his feet. The pair watched him go and then Imix remarked, "I think he likes you."

Toran was surprised by that and said, "What makes you think that?"

Imix tilted his head and said, "Because you're still alive, I am not sure I could say the same if you put him in a room with those snakes Lessall, Jossat or Samect."

Toran was uncomfortable discussing his Chapter's shameful internal strife with an outsider and tried to shake off the situation by saying, "I am sure it won't come to that, nobody wants this to come to bloodshed."

Imix stared at him for a long moment then said, "Do not underestimate your kin, I felt the shapes of their minds, they are more ruthless than you realise. Lessall in particular, his mind is like a razor and his ambitions will see him walk dark paths."

Now Toran really was uncomfortable and he changed the subject by saying, "Your Brothers served well and brought much honour to your name. They should be proud of their deeds here; they will long be remembered in our histories."

Imix accepted the compliment and said, "Your men too served well, your Company did you proud."

Toran drew in a breath and said, "There were a few initial squabbles but Third Company came together well. They have been united by conflict, blood and by mourning."

Imix replied, "A shared grief will bring strangers together better even than a common foe, you have led them well and they will do you proud in the future."

Toran thought upon it then he said, "So tell me, what is next for the Smoke Jaguars?"

Imix sighed and replied, "We will assist in running down the remnants of the Splinter fleet, we must harry them lest they regroup and return to threaten more worlds. Then once the Warp clears we will return to Copan XII, there are more wars that require our attention."

Toran thought about this and said, "Yes indeed, hard as it is to believe we merely defeated a Splinter fleet here. Hive Fleet Leviathan continues to press ever deeper into Imperial space and there have been disturbing reports of Orks massing near Armageddon not to mention disturbances at Cadia. It is more vital than ever that the Imperium can depend upon a stable Warp Route through this region."

Imix replied, "Worry not, I feel the Warp settling even now, soon messages and starships will fly freely along this current once more."

Toran sighed and said, "That is good to hear, the resources and armies moving between Segmentums Solar and Tempestus could make all the difference on the galactic scale."

Imix tutted and remarked, "Strange is it not, the High Lords will probably never notice this battle, yet the events here could well shape the galaxy itself. Your Chapter may well have saved the Imperium and nobody on Terra will even know it."

Toran was about to speak again but there was a discrete cough from the perimeter of the dome and serf stepped out into the light. Walking behind him was a man in Naval attire, it was Captain Mandas, looking stiff and formal in his dress uniform. He bore his customary broad cutlass at his hip, but that was a mere affectation, there was no way he could possibly threaten an armoured Space Marine.

Toran however greeted him warmly, holding out a hand and saying, "Ah Georgios my friend, it is good to see you again. Thank you for coming, we have all fought against the same foes, inside the Imperium and without. I thought it fit we meet as one before we go our separate ways."

Mandas strode forward and grasped his hand saying, "And you Toran, thank you for inviting me. I was glad to hear that you survived the destruction of your ship."

Toran turned and said, "May I present Chief-Librarian Imix of the Smoke Jaguars."

Mandas blinked at the exotic appearance of the Librarian but swiftly recovered and said, "I am honoured to meet you."

Imix bowed and said, "Light of the Dawn be upon you."

Mandas glanced about and said, "Just the three of us, I thought you called all your allies. Where's that Tech-Priest friend of yours?"

Toran replied, "I invited Castabore but she seemed confused why I bothered, said something about it being an inefficient use of her time."

Imix shook his head and said, "Tech-Priests, they replace more than their flesh, they hollow out their souls too."

Toran looked at Mandas and asked, "So tell me what have you been doing since the battle ended?"

Mandas replied, "I've been kept busy with repairs to my ship, while the escorts hunt the remnants of the Tyranid fleet. The Navy estimates that fully two thirds of the Bio-ships have been destroyed, the rest are scattering into interstellar space as we speak."

Toran stated, "A fine victory."

Mandas said, "But a costly one, the Navy understands what it means to lose a good ship… and good men."

Toran's smile faded and he said, "My Chapter know what sacrifices victory demands, none of us would think it was a pointless waste. Good brothers may have laid down their lives yet it was for the most noble of causes, would that we all could know such glory. I have sworn an oath that their names will be preserved for as long as my Chapter endures."

Imix declared, "Then they shall become immortal, for as long as one's name is remembered then one is not truly dead."

Toran was off put by the odd statement and drew in a breath to buy a second to think, then he said, "So what is the Navy planning to do next?"

Mandas shrugged and said, "We will recover our losses and rebuild for the next war, there is no end to the demands for our guns. Mark my words, the Averof will be in the heart of battle again soon."

Toran was glad to hear the fire in his voice and said, "Honestly Georgios, when are they going to make an Admiral out of you?"

Mandas snorted in derision and said, "Clearly you do not know the Admiralty very well, nobody makes staff rank without having either the right family connections or vast personal wealth. There's no way those blue-bloods will let a jumped up lad from the docks sit at the big table and sup the good Amasec."

Toran frowned and said, "But surely…"

Mandas waved him off saying, "Wouldn't want it anyway, I like the bridge of my ship just fine. The day they take me off the bridge of my Averof is the day I am dead. Besides if I became an Admiral then I would have to marry some snooty high-born lady and learn proper etiquette for the formal occasions she would drag me to. I would much rather be steering my Old Lady into the thick of it than spending my days learning which fork one uses for the fish dish and which one goes with the shrimp course."

Imix said utterly deadpan, "It's the three tined one for the fish and the two tined one for the shrimp."

The conversation paused as they both stared at Imix, unsure if the eight-foot, gene-enhanced and armoured warrior had just made a joke. Slowly Toran drew in a breath and said, "So the Navy is claiming victory?"

Mandas was still staring at Imix but then he shook it off and said, "Well were are running down as many of the bugs as we can but a few are bound to escape. Still Rear-Admiral Dousmanis the Younger is playing this victory for all its worth. He's already angling for the Lord Admiral's rank pins, and with his family connections he'll probably get it."

Toran thought about it and said, "But he had rivals, Zerban and Giovanni among others, they will oppose him."

Imix said, "I wouldn't worry about them, Giovanni is locked in a padded room, screaming endlessly about fanged monsters. As for Zerban hes slunk under a rock, you won't be hearing from him for a while."

Toran wasn't so sure, he suspected the Inquisitor would return to plague them in the future. However that was a problem for another day, he faced his allies and said, "I want to thank you for standing with the Storm Heralds in this darkest of times, we could not have prevailed here without your aid."

Imix said, "If this has taught us anything it must be that nothing can stand against Humanity so long as we remain united and together we here have proved formidable."

"Aye," said Mandas, "There is nobody I would rather have at my side in a tough scrap; I look forward to our next encounter."

"As do I," said Toran warmly, "I am proud to call you my comrades and I want you to know that I will always come if you should call. So long as we remain true to our friends then the enemies of Mankind should be wary of challenging us again."

The End


	36. Chapter 36

_Presenting a teaser for an upcoming story, Saeva Abyssi_

 **Somewhere Somewhen**

The hanger bay was a vast space, stretching as far as the eye could see. Such spaces were typically large and cavernous, having to fit Void interceptors, Naval bombers and all the fitters, servitors and Tech-Priests necessary to operate them. Any experienced starfarer would think themselves accustomed to such immensity, but this was something entirely else entirely.

This hanger was staggeringly vast; large enough to fit an entire escort ship inside if necessary. Whole armadas of strike craft could have been prepared here along with enough gunships to deploy a Chapter's worth of Astartes at once. The bay was so long the walls were barely visible and the roof so high that clouds condensed, forming its very own microclimate. In the entire galaxy there were but a handful of vessels that could boast of such a facility, the Phalanx, the Eternal Crusader, the Vengeful Spirit and of course: the Shadow of the Emperor.

Aboard the Shadow the bay was unusually quiet today; the long lines of Doomfire bombers and Swiftdeath fighters lying still and idle. Helldrake Daemon engines sat in reinforced cages, snapping at the bars with malignant intelligence while Raptors roosted high above, cawing mockingly at the distant specks below. Servitors trundled about on their monotonous duties but otherwise the crew were still and silent, even the mutants standing still in equal parts respect and terror. At the head of the bay stood long lines of Transhuman beings, each one bearing symbols and icons of Chaos and many boasting hideous mutations. They stood in an eclectic mix of colours and heraldry, each one a testament to a unique origin and a proud litany of slaughter. Many of them had scars and burns on their plate, where former marks of allegiance to Vorshaan the Dusk Prince had been excised. Now they bore a plethora of marks and signs to the Dark Gods, but the most common icon of all was that of the Alpha Legion.

They stood in serried lines, all looking straight ahead with bolters held at parade rest. They were facing the vast open bay doors, shimmering with an atmospheric integrity field, beyond which was the purple wisp of a drifting nebula. Between the field and the waiting troops was a quartet of figures, each in Alpha Legion turquoise. Two of them were somewhat plain, quiet and unassuming in every way; their names were Delta and Epsilon, expert infiltrators and spies of the Legion. The third carried a large double-headed axe, which he kneaded constantly in impatience. His name was Gamma and he was a brutal killer, a slaughterer of innocents and a potential warlord in his own right, had he not been limited by his own lack of imagination. The fourth and last member of the party bore a helm crested with four horns, robes decorated with occult symbols and a staff topped by a three head snake. His name was Beta and he was the leader of the assembled troops, commander of the Shadow and a sorcerer of Chaos.

The troops stood waiting for long minutes, until Gamma finally lost patience and snarled, "By the Powers below, how long is he going to keep us waiting?"

Beta replied calmly, "As long as he likes."

Gamma snorted in derision and said, "Pathetic power plays, he should just get on with it. Why do we need to see him anyway, he's not that important."

Beta replied, "We have been ordered to this rendezvous and we will respond. The Legion calls and we obey."

Gamma shook his head and said, "We have the Shadow, we have armies to command and Chaos Marines aplenty, why do we obey like pathetic loyalist lapdogs?"

"Because we remain Legion," Beta explained calmly, "We are but one splinter cell among hundreds, a union of the like and the like-minded but coordinating such a disparate force requires a level of supervision. To be the Harrowmaster is to be one of the great lords of the Legion, one of the heads of the Hydra, with scores of cells under you. Do I need to remind you how many cells have gone rogue and needed to be purged?"

Gamma turned away and his head away and snorted, "Pah."

Beta however stated, "Right stand straight, here he comes."

From the depths of the nebula emerged a tiny speck, a black dot that swiftly grew and grew as it approached. It soared towards the Shadow and as it closed wings and blunt prow emerged, becoming the fat-bellied silhouette of a Warhawk IV pattern Stormbird. The gunship cruised leisurely towards the Shadow, angling in on a final approach to enter the bay. With a burst of static the Stormbird penetrated the atmospheric field, its thrusters braking hard to bring it to a halt. It hovered for a moment on columns of thrust, then it lowered itself to the deck and opened its ramp. The crowd watched unmoving in the sudden wind as its engines cycled down and steam billowed around its landing claws. The gunship was large enough to fit a hundred Astartes but from its dark interior emerged three warriors, just three. Two of them in plain armour with loaded bolters, guarding a third who strode proudly with his unhelmed head held high. His armour was covered in serpentine shapes, which carried on over his bald scalp in writhing snake tattoos, his eyes were green and he wasn't smiling.

Beta stood tense as a bowstring as the newcomer strode up to him and before the other arrived he snarled, "Indrago Theed."

The newcomer came to halt and his guards stopped behind him as he glared at Beta; he looked him up and down and stated crisply "Harrowmaster to you."

Beta ignored that and said, "Don't go giving yourself airs and graces, you are no Harrowmaster. I remember when you were just a rank amateur, bungling the operation at Alaxxes."

Indrago snorted contemptuously and said, "And yet here I am… inspecting your cell and you better hope I like what I see."

Beta begrudgingly stepped aside and said, "As you can see my cell has been most effective, we have captured a Glorianna class Battleship for the Legion and already put it to good use. The Imperial bases at Scapa Delve and Tragion Point have burned, not to mention diverting Waaagh Gortusk into the Heliopolis arc."

Indrago did not sound impressed as he said, "Petty victories, barely worth mentioning in the long view. Besides I am not here to evaluate your targets but your methods, especially the company you keep."

Beta waved a hand towards his troops saying, "See them for yourself."

Indrago stepped up to the troops and his two guards followed him, he looked them up and down and said, "I see mongrels, half-breeds and mercenaries… What I do not see are pure Alpha Legionnaires."

Beta knocked his head to one side and replied, "Since when has that mattered, the Alpha Legion has always used whatever tools came to hand. You should know that… Theed."

"Harrowmaster! " snarled Indrago angrily as he turned back to the Sorcerer, "It seems you have forgotten that these are tools to be used for our purposes, not ends in themselves. Delving into Chaos, treating with Daemons and Pirate Princes and now whispers that you are partnering with the Eldar. Concerns have been raised about you Beta; at the highest levels we are concerned that you have lost sight of our cause."

Beta actually laughed at that and said, "Don't give me that, we have all done far worse. Who amongst us hasn't used Chaos, who hasn't manipulated aliens and Throne-Worshippers at one time or another."

Indrago shook his head and said, "And always it carries the risk of contamination, the risk of becoming the servant rather than the master. Do I need to remind you of what happened to Lord Bale and Sindri Myr, corrupted beyond the bounds of sanity and killed off by the Blood Ravens."

Beta paused at that and said, "The who?"

Indrago waved a hand dismissively and said, "Nobody of any importance or in any way memorable."

Beta snorted and said, "I never cared for those two anyway. Bale was an idiot and Sindri drooled at the thought of Daemonhood. Don't compare me to those fools… Theed."

"Harrowmaster!" snarled Indrago in irritation, "Know I have been given remit to purge rogue cells, this century alone I purged the cells of the brothers of the snake, the seven-pointed stars and the Unspoken Secret. You will be next if you do not watch your tone. I have sworn that when the Primarch next returns he will find a united Legion, pure and sure of purpose."

"The Primarch?!" snorted Beta in disbelief, then he laughed aloud and said, "Don't you know Alpharius Omegan died… both of them!"

Indrago looked angry and said, "The Primarch has died many times, Yarant, Pluto, Eskrador, Danevra, Necromunda. Always he returns, always."

Beta sounded amused as he chuckled, "You are woefully naive, the Primarch is lost and we will never know where or how. His purpose died with him and we are free now to take whatever we want… Theed."

"Harrowmaster!" Indrago spat incensed, "You disappoint me with your lack of faith… I have made my decision, you are not worthy of this Flagship. The Shadow will be taken from you and given to a more worthy cell, one true to the Primarch's vision."

Beta sounded resigned as he said, "That is your final word?"

Indrago snarled, "Final."

Beta sighed and said, "As you wish."

Beta suddenly nodded, not at Indrago but at someone behind him. There was a loud, flat bang and then Indrago Theed's head exploded, showering gore all over the deck. There were loud gasps from the crowd behind as Indrago's body fell to the deck with a clatter, revealing one of his guards standing there, with a smoking bolter. The other guard reacted swiftly, bringing his weapon about to target the traitor, but Gamma was already in motion. He swung his axe high to decapitate the warrior in one blow and sent him sprawling to the deck. The other guard looked at Beta, who bowed low before him. Everybody followed suit, a hundred Astartes bowing to one, then Beta arose and said respectfully, "Greetings Harrowmaster."

The Harrowmaster lowered his bolter and nodded to the sorcerer and said, "Beta… you have done well."

"Thank you my lord," replied Beta idly kicking Indrago's corpse, "I wasn't sure I could stomach this idiot much longer."

The Harrowmaster said, "He always was a bungling amateur, a useful one though. His purges of the other cells have put me in prime position amongst the Lords of the Legion."

"Ahhh," said Beta slowly as understanding dawned, "Then they were co-opted by the Warmonger?"

The Harrowmaster replied, "Either him or the Broker, the Observer, the Negotiator, the Dispatcher or the Soothsayer. It hardly matters, though, now I am unchallenged I can steer this Legion to its true goal."

Beta nodded in respect, then he paused and said, "Tell me one thing: did Theed really believe he was the new Harrowmaster?"

The Harrowmaster nodded and said, "It wasn't easy but he was blinded by his fantasies of a glorious past, so blinkered in his vision of a pure Legion. He was only recently starting to suspect the truth, that's why he had to be liquidated."

Beta chuckled and said, "It seems he forgot that, in the long view, the Hydra always wins."

"Indeed," said the Harrowmaster, "Now I have read your most recent reports, this partnership with the Eldar is most promising and I agree that they may provide you with the tools to complete the destruction of those Storm Heralds. If your scheme works it may well be that we can use this method to destroy other Chapters too, it could well make the Alpha Legion the supreme force in the galaxy. You have my authority to pursue any avenue, no matter how extreme, to make this happen. You may also keep the Shadow; you will need it for the tasks ahead. "

Beta bowed low and said, "For the Legion."

The Harrowmaster corrected him, "For the Emperor."


End file.
